Fire Off Your Guns
by SisiDraig - 2
Summary: SEQUEL TO BROKEN GLASS AND CIGARETTES.  The gang are perfectly happy with their new peaceful lives in Madagascar but what will they do when old enemies rear their ugly heads?  How will they cope when they're dragged back into their old, dangerous world?
1. Chapter 1

**D/C: Despite months of trying … I still don't own any of the QAF characters or places etc. Please don't sue … at least not until I get my student loan.**

**D/C 2: The title is taken from my favourite song of right this second 'Fire off Your Guns' by Buckcherry.**

**PROLONGED A/N: It's been suuuuuuuuuch a long time since I last wrote fan fiction, so this is pretty nerve-wracking but I just felt like there were more adventures for these AU-characters to go on. Sorry if my QAF writing style seems a little rusty, the gang have been out of my head for a long time now, hopefully I'll improve as the story goes on. **

**Unfortunately, I don't think this will make any sense at all unless you read it's prequel 'BROKEN GLASS AND CIGARETTES' but just as a quick recap as to the situation right now….**

**Michael is in prison serving a severely shortened sentence for the crimes he committed whilst with the gang. He has decided he wants to leave the gang lifestyle after his sentence is finished and start a life with Ben and Hunter, who is living with Ben in their house.**

**Brian, Ted and Emmett are living in separate houses in Madagascar and have been told by Detective Horvath that if they set foot on US soil again, they will be arrested. Justin opted to live with Brian, leaving his mother and sister behind. His father wants nothing to do with any of them.**

**Anyway, think of this as a little preview of what's to come….**

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><p>"Hey Novotny get up!" An angry, hoarse voice broke through the blackness of Michael's cell. He couldn't pinpoint which officer it was, they all pretty much sounded the same, especially when they were doing something official.<p>

"Hey!" The voice came again, louder this time and accompanied by bashing on his cell door. "I said get up … now!"

"Knock it off," a voice from the cell next door shouted but the officer just told him to 'shut the fuck up' before yelling for Michael again and making even more noise.

Michael was sat up now but he was still rubbing his eyes, trying to make out some shapes on the floor before he jumped off the top bunk. He could never know when Sledger, his cell mate, had left his stuff and he had a horrible habit of peeing in the night and missing the bowl. Michael strained his eyes, just as the officer yelled again and Sledger hissed,

"I swear to God cocksucker, you leave now or I'll stab you myself."

Suddenly, a puddle of piss on the floor didn't seem so threatening and he jumped down and went straight to the door.

"What is it officer?" He asked groggily, sheilding his eyes against the officer's flashlight.

"You're being moved, Novotny," the man said, opening the door and slapping some handcuffs on him.

"To where?"

"Somewhere else…." The man growled, shutting the door and dragging Michael my the cuffs, causing him to stumble backwards.

"Another cell?" Michael asked. It was only now that the tiredness was slipping away and he realised how weird this situation was. They never moved prisoners in the dead of night like this.

"Shut up," the officer growled.

"Another wing?"

"I warned you to shut the fuck up."

"But don't I have a right to…."

But the man would never know what Michael thought he had a right to, because he'd taken the flashlight and smacked the prisoner around the head with it, sending him into complete blackness.

"I warned you," the man muttered, hoisted the limp, unconscious body onto his shoulder and carrying him to the van.

"That him?" A man with a heavy accent asked.

"No," the first guy scorned, "I just thought I'd get a different guy."

"Sounds like a thing you would do."

"Will you just shut the fuck up and drive before anyone notices."

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><p><strong>More soon...<strong>

**Thanks for reading! xx**


	2. Chapter 2

Justin was wearing white shorts and a white cotton shirt, sitting on the beach, his toes being lapped gently by the waves. He loved this life. It was peaceful. There was no fear of the police, no panic every time he looked over his shoulder. And okay, so the internet was kind of slow and they didn't have cable and had to pick up the extra channels via satellite but they'd gotten around it, just like they'd gotten around everything else.

They had a maid named Anja, who came to clean the house twice a week. Justin thought she was really sweet. She only spoke a little English but she worked really hard so Brian paid her well … very well. He promised her she'd be able to look after her family on the wages she'd earn and so far that had been more than true. He watched as she pottered about on the porch area that led to the beach. She was tidying and rearranging the flowers and plumping up the cushions and Justin knew that meant she'd nearly finished. She always left the little things until last and always started by mopping the wooden floor that ran through the entire house. It was a bungalow, more than a house but it was huge. It had six bedrooms, a sitting area, a large open plan kitchen/sitting area and two bathrooms, one of which came off the master bedroom. Justin had turned one of the spare bedrooms into a studio for his paintings. It was perfect, white-washed walls, with a big window for lots of light to come in and an amazing view of the sea, though there was an amazing view of the sea on every side.

"Ah, Mr Justin," Anja called from just a little way up the jetty. "I go now," she smiled. "Come back Tuesday."

"Oh, okay," Justin beamed at her. "Have a nice day."

"Yes," she nodded. "Er, you also."

Justin watched as she made her way back across the outside porch bit and around the side of the house. She'd whiz past in a moment on the second boat Brian had acquired when he'd purchased the house. That was the problem with living on a rock just off the mainland, popping to get some milk wasn't an easy task, still it was worth it for all the peace and quiet. Just then, the smaller of the two boats went speeding past.

"Goodbye, Mr. Justin," Anja shouted over the roaring engine. Justin just waved back. Okay, it was peaceful most of the time.

Justin thought it was funny the way Anja referred to him as Mr. Justin. It had started on the second day when he'd tried to stop her calling him Mr. Taylor and just call him Justin but the request had got a bit lost in translation and he'd been Mr. Justin ever since. She called Brian, Mr. Kinney and quite frankly, he liked it that way.

He pushed himself to his feet and walked along the beach back up the wooden path to the balcony-porch bit that surrounded the house. He could hear the argument before he opened the glass door. He could hear Brian's voice getting louder and more angry and he could hear Emmett whooping and cheering with delight. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Emmett looked up at him from his seat on a tiny sofa and smiled.

"You look good on camera," he commented, gesturing to the plasma screen with the remote in his hand.

"Will you shut the fuck up?" Brian moaned. He was standingthe other side of the breakfast bar, leaning heavily on it as he poured himself a second glass of whiskey. It was barely noon but that didn't seem to bother him. Justin sensed this was going to be a long day.

"What?" Emmett asked innocently. "I think it's sweet." Then to Justin, he added, "what do you think, baby?"

Justin walked quickly around the small sofa set up in front of the TV and peered at the screen as Emmett rewound and played the news footage of him and Brian kissing outside the courthouse. Ted still kept it in his folder of DVD's and although Brian always threatened to have it destroyed he still hadn't quite got around to it. Justin laughed a bit before pinching the remote deftly from his friend's hand and pausing the image.

"Turn it off Em," he chuckled, holding the remote away from his friend.

"Okay, okay," the older man sighed. "Just … let me watch my favourite bit one last time."

"Last time," Justin warned, feeling a lot like a mom with a stubborn child.

Emmett agreed eagerly and Justin passed the remote back to him. He watched as the older man wound back a few minutes and then grin widely before pressing play just in time to watch first Justin, then Debbie and finally Jennifer slap Brian hard in the face. Emmett roared with laughter. Ted chuckled a little. Justin tried, and failed, to stop a smirk from invading his face and Brian just downed his drink and poured himself another before snapping, "Honeycutt, get that shit off my TV now!"

"Oooooo," Emmett taunted like a child on a playground.

"Ignore him, Em," Ted said. "He's just testy because the in-laws are coming to stay."

"I am not _testy_," Brian snarled. "And they're not_ in-laws_." He took a sip of his drink, revelling in its burning sensation waiting for it to numb him completely. "What the fuck are you doing here anyway?" He demanded of Ted and Emmett. "Haven't you got your own homes to go to?"

"But it's not as nice as this one," Emmett whinged. "And we can't pick up US TV." He took the DVD out of the player and pointed to the screen as ABC came on as though to prove his point.

"Well, set it up then," Brian growled. "Then you can leave me the fuck alone."

"You?" Emmett scoffed. "We don't come here to see you..."

"No, just to use my stuff."

"… we come here to see Justin. And he loves having us around, don't you baby?"

"Of course," Justin said but he wasn't overly convincing as he walked over and began to kneed Brian's shoulders with his thumbs. "Buuut," he smiled sweetly, "my mom is going to be here in a few hours and she's bringing Molly and she's here for a week and the walls in this place are really thin." He looked at Emmett trying to convey his message with his eyes but there was no need because Brian was happy to convey the message aloud.

"What Sunshine means is … fuck off."

"Message received and understood," Emmett nodded. "But one of you is going to have to take us over to the mainland and bring the boat back."

"You should have thought of that before you cadged a lift off Anja," Brian said, turning around and placing his arms around Justin's waist and beginning to walk them towards their bedroom.

"So how the hell do you suggest we get back?" Emmett demanded.

"Swim," Brian shrugged as he disappeared into the bedroom shutting the door behind them.

"Fuck you too," Ted called after them, going to sit on the sofa next to his friend.

"This is hell," Emmett groaned, "being stuck on a tiny island having to listen to those two go at it for hours."

"I just feel like we're back in the house in West Virginia," Ted smiled. "Those two fucking whilst we're trying to watch the TV."

"Michael looking like he was going to explode," Emmett chuckled. Then he sighed as he thought of the missing member of the original gang. "I wonder how he's doing."

"Out of prison I think," Ted said. "His sentence would have been up last week, as long as he behaved himself."

"Do you think he meant what he said though, making a new start in the real, law-abiding world?"

"I guess so," Ted shrugged. "It's funny what you'll do for love."

Suddenly a particularly loud groan came from the master bedroom and the two friends looked at each other. "Case and point," Ted murmured.

"You know," Emmett said hurriedly. "I fancy sitting out on the beach."

"Me too," agreed the other man and they scrambled for their stuff and rushed out of ear shot of the master bedroom.

::

"I think I prefer this hide out," Emmett smiled as he wrote his name in the white sand with a stick.

"It's certainly safer," Ted agreed, "and more peaceful but… don't you ever get bored."

"Of glorious sunshine and white sandy beaches? Not yet."

"No I mean of this … nothingness."

"What are you saying Teddy?"

"I miss it," the older man mumbled as though embarrassed. "I miss having to think of new exciting ways to make some money. I miss the thrill of only just avoiding capture. I miss the danger, the excitement."

"Well, if you turn the wrong way here you could end up in a face-off with a crocodile," Emmett said brightly. "That's dangerous."

Ted shot Emmett a scornful expression.

"I guess that's not really the same?" Emmett smiled weakly.

"Not really."

They were silent for a second and Emmett began to draw a few swirls in the sand near his name. Then he hearda splashing in the distance and looked up.

"Oh my god, Teddy. Look," he pointed out to the sea as, in the distance, dolphins leapt around chatting and calling to each other. "It's beautiful," he breathed, his head dropping onto Ted's shoulder. Ted had to admit it really, really was but it wasn't the beauty he was bored with or the people, it was the endless nothing he was enduring. He kept having brilliant ideas, wonderful plans to put into action but no one and nowhere to carry them out.

::

"Right boys," Brian smirked, coming up behind them, with Justin at his side, "are you ready to go home?" His hair was dripping from the shower and he was wearing a similar white cotton number to Justin. It was too hot to wear anything else.

"Finally," Emmett sighed, pushing himself to his feet and dragging Ted up too.

Brian drove the speed boat like he was constantly in a boat chase in a James Bond film. He drove too quickly, he took all the corners way too tightly, which meant you had to cling on for dear life … well, it did if you were Ted. Emmett just whooped and cheered like he'd never been on anything so fun in his life.

"Brian," Justin protested, "you better not drive like this when my mom's on the boat."

"I'll let you drive," Brian suggested, kicking the back end of the boat out and sending a huge wave of water into the air.

"Better slow it down a bit," Justin suggested catching the nauseous expression on Ted's face.

Brian followed the younger man's gaze until he saw Ted looking thoroughly green.

"Can't handle the pace, Theodore?" he smirked, but he slowed the boat down anyway, besides, they were nearly at the shore.

And that's when he heard it. He guessed it had been going on a while but they hadn't been able to hear it over the din of the engine. He already knew what it was, a young girl, a tween, shouting Justin's name over and over again and then it was Brian's turn to feel sick. Hadn't they said they'd pick the Taylor's up from the airport? How had they managed to get all the way to the jetty? But before he'd put his thoughts into words, his questions were answered, in the form of a woman with bright red hair and thundering voice.

"There're my boys!"

Shit!


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks very much to by beta and Americanizer boriqua522 you're a legend and make my fics make sense!**

**Also, futuractive thanking of Albiku for all the help she will be giving me in this fic to fix my (well, google translates - Spanish).**

**Finally, thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far! I love to hear what you have to say. Good or bad!**

**Anyways ... FIC!**

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><p>"Food smells nice," Jen said politely. Ever since she'd arrived three hours ago, all she'd done was comment on how <em>nice<em> everything was; the beach was nice, the sea was nice, the house was nice. Now even the fucking food was nice. It was boring and Brian was sure it was a lie.

"Thanks Jen," Emmett smiled, twirling around from the behind the breakfast bar. He was wearing a frilly pink apron and kept twirling the ties constantly. That was one of many reasons Brian Kinney had spent the last twenty minutes 'looking for something' non-specific, which could apparently be in any of the rooms of the house or even at the jetty.

"Brian says it's the only one of my recipes that doesn't make him hurl," Emmett beamed, stirring the pot again.

"Oh … er, lovely." Jen seemed uncomfortable. Her country club life hadn't really prepared her for this so she returned to the safety of watching the television.

"Talking of the asshole…"

Jennifer coughed loudly at Debbie's use of language and then gestured meaningfully and none to subtly at Molly.

"Please mom," the teenager scorned. "I hear worse than that everyday."  
>"Bet she says worse too," Justin chuckled, earning himself a glare from his little sister. He just stuck his tongue out. There is really nothing like a sibling to bring out the immaturity in someone.<p>

"I was just going to say," Debbie said loudly, regaining the spotlight, "where's Brian?"

"Somewhere else," Emmett smirked, calling Justin over to help him in the kitchen.

"I think I saw him walking out to the jetty a little while ago," Ted confirmed tapping away on his laptop furiously.

"Again," Emmett added gleefully, as Justin, tutting a little, removed the spoon from Emmett and stirred the concoction himself.

"I haven't seen him much at all," Jen commented and Justin just fumbled some lie about it probably being a coincidence. Everyone else in the room knew it was anything but coincidence.

"Well, dinner's nearly ready," Emmett practically sang. "I guess someone should go out and get him."

"I'll go," Jen said quickly and disappeared before anyone could make any objections.

"What was that about?" Justin asked, looking at Debbie but the red-wigged lady just shrugged. All their attention turned to the youngest person in the room; Molly.

She didn't even notice that the attention was all on her. She was too busy watching the television with that brainless expression young teens have, when their minds are being numbed.

"Mollusc?" Justin prompted and she turned around puzzled. "Why's mom so desperate to talk to Brian?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, turning back to her programme. "Mom said she wanted to talk to him, but … she didn't say why."

Justin frowned and went over to the bay window to see if he could catch a glimpse of them but he couldn't. They were just out of his site, he thought about opening the window to see if he could hear them but then Molly said, "it might have something to do with you getting into the institute of fine arts."

"I, what?" Justin asked, turning abruptly on the spot.

"You got in," Molly said as though it was a trivial and boring fact about dirt. And in the same tone she added, "well done."

"Sunshine, that's wonderful," Debbie beamed, rushing across to smother him in a heavily perfumed hug.

"Yeah, well done baby," Emmett agreed, giving a quick kiss on the cheek. "I didn't know you'd applied."

"I didn't," Justin said firmly, detaching himself from Debbie. And glaring at he only man who'd been silent throughout this entire exchange. Justin knew that if this had been some kind of scheme cooked up by one Brian Kinney, Ted would know about it. Like Emmett had once said, "Ted knows everything that goes on at all times. If he'd been born two thousand years ago, there would be a religion called Schmistianity."

"Well?" Was all Justin said.

"Nothing to do with me," Ted assured him coolly.

"And Brian didn't get you to apply on my behalf?"

"No," he repeated. "I've been busy anyway," he pointed to the laptop he was working on.

"Yeah, what are you doing?" Emmett asked curiously.

"Following up some old leads," Ted sighed, shutting the lid of his computer. "Is dinner nearly ready?"

"Erm…." Emmett looked at the bubbling mixture he was meant to be stirring and shrugged. With all the secret additions Justin had made to the dish, Emmett had no idea what it was supposed to look like anymore.

Justin quickly came to rescue him from the housewife-horror of admitting that he didn't actually know whether the food he'd been boiling for the past twenty minutes was cooked or not.

"It's done," Justin confirmed, after taking a taste of the sauce. "I'll go and get my mom and Brian. Back in a second." As he reached the door, he called back, "Emmett try not to burn anything by the time I get back.

"Yes, sir." Emmett saluted using his hand that was holding the mixing spoon and managed to flick sauce all over the kitchen. It didn't fill Justin with confidence but he decided to just turn his back on it. He was sure Deb would help out with the cleaning and if not, they had a maid.

Three hours, he thought, three hours. That's all it had been and he was already pleading with the earth to take his family away. He loved seeing them again, of course he did, but everything was always so noisy and hectic when they were around. It was a complete contrast to how things were when it was just him and Brian and if asked to choose there was no contest.

He walked quickly down to the jetty. He could see his mother and Brian wrapped up in conversation. Brian was looking awkward, digging his toes into the sand and nodded at intervals. It was strange seeing Brian with his mother. Just over a year ago, Brian Kinney was the most wanted man in Pittsburgh, maybe even the US. He'd faced prison, gone on the run, outsmarted the police and saved the day but he always acted like a caught, naught school kid when faced with forty-eight year old, real estate agent, Jennifer Taylor.

"Okay." Justin overheard Brian's beaten tone as he got close. He tried to be as quiet as possible and it didn't seem like Brian was going to remove his gaze from the sand anytime soon. "No, of course you're right. I didn't really think about that but … you're right." Then he looked up, and Justin could have kicked himself. He should have hidden, not that there was anywhere to hide on a tiny open beach. It was no use now anyway, Brian had seen him now, so he improvised.

"What are you right about mom?" He asked brightly.

"We'll tell you at dinner," Jennifer promised tapping him gently on the cheek. "Come on."

Justin watched his mother march across the sand.

"What was that about?" He demanded, turning back to a defeated Brian.

"You'll find out soon enough," Brian sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder and guiding him back to the house.

::

"No fucking way!"

"Justin, language," Jennifer cried. "Molly, perhaps you should leave the room a minute."

"No way," laughed the stubborn teenager. "This is the best part of the trip."

She was the only one who didn't seem to take up Jennifer's offer as Ted, Emmett and Debbie all suddenly vacated for the nearest bedroom. Brian almost made to follow them but he was stared down by two angry Taylor's, so he slumped back into his dining chair, poured himself another glass of whiskey and knocked it back easily.

This was going pretty much exactly as he'd expected. He was sure Jen was right, Justin did need other outlets but he knew that Justin would fight it, despite the fact he'd clearly applied.

"What will he do," she'd asked of Brian out on the beach, "when you get bored of him?"

Brian had agreed immediately and he'd seen something in Jen's eyes. It was a look of victory, but there was something else too. It was as though she thought she'd stumbled on a truth about Brian Kinney. Was she an idiot? Did she honestly think Brian could ever become bored of Justin, his wonderful, sunny attitude, his bizarre sense of humour, his ass, his blowjobs? No, Brian Kinney was set for life and somewhere in the very depths of his heart, he knew it, he just wouldn't admit it. What did worry him was that Justin would one day see him for who _he _really was; an old, unreliable, big-talking criminal with very little idea about the real world. Yeah, he lived a glamorous lifestyle for a while but now that was gone and he was nothing. It was only a matter of time before Justin realised that and Brian didn't want him to leave with no way of living or coping in a world outside this one.

Justin had got in to PIFA and Brian agreed with Jen, he couldn't give up that opportunity to play house on an island in Madagascar, however glamorous that seemed to a twenty-year old.

"Brian." He heard an angry Justin calling his name, and snapped out of his self-pitying day-mares, "aren't you going to say anything?"

"I agree with your mother," he muttered and downed another drink.

"What! WHAT!" Justin screamed. The door of the nearest bedroom twitched a little and Brian had no doubt that the other three idiots he called friends, or when Drunk family, were on the other side listening in on every word. "How can you agree with her?" And then, like any good twenty year old, he became completely irrational and hysterical, pointing fingers at everyone and raising his voice to a manic screech. "You want me gone, don't you? You don't love me anymore, do you? Go on, admit it. You just want me gone and this is the perfect opportunity. I bet you two have been planning this for months, haven't you?"

"No," Brian said steadily. His voice was quiet but he'd always had that quality to it that meant even a whisper could get everyone's attention. He supposed it came with being a natural leader. "I didn't know anything about it until your mom came to speak to me."

"But she just convinced you like _that_?" Justin asked in disbelief, clicking his fingers on the last word. He was still angry but he wasn't yelling anymore. It seemed the screaming dramatics were over and Molly went back to the television.

"It's not like _that_." Brian copied his click. "I've been thinking about it before Jennifer even asked me. You need to have the life you would have had if I hadn't ruined it. What if…?" He looked suddenly at Jen and Molly, shook his head and poured himself another drink.

"What if … what?" Justin asked, sliding in to the chair next to him and clutching his hand desperately.  
>"What if," Brian murmured too quietly for anyone but Justin to hear, "you wake up in ten years' time and realise you've wasted your life?"<br>"I'd never think that," Justin replied.

"You don't know that," Brian whispered, taking another sip of his drink. "You're just a kid." Then stubbornly he said, "and you're going."

"But I don't want to," Justin replied equally stubbornly, if a little more whiny.

"It's not about what you want to do. It's about what you need to do."

"What?" Justin almost laughed. "You sound like my fucking father."

"And that's why you need to go Justin," Brian yelled. "This. You and me. It's not going to be like this forever. I'm going to get old and you'll still be young … you need another option!"  
>"So, just because you think it's inevitable that this is going to end, you're ending it now?"<br>"That's about right," Brian said emotionlessly and with that, Brian disappeared into the master bedroom.

"ASSHOLE!" Justin yelled through the door, before marching out to the jetty.

The sea was peaceful, like it always was. It made that nice whooshing noise, like it always did but Justin was too furious to notice the would-be tranquility. He just let out a long scream into the night like Tarzan and began to cry. Why did Brian have to be like this? Why did he have to have this thing in him that made him so stubborn when it came to doing the supposed 'right' thing? But this wasn't the right thing. It was the so obviously the wrong thing, Justin was sure of it. He'd fought so hard to be with Brian and he'd been torn apart from him once before and it had nearly killed him. He couldn't go through that torture again. He couldn't.

"Not again," he pleaded to the sky. "Please. Not again."

But whoever, or whatever, his intended target had been, they weren't listening because the next morning, Jennifer dragged him to the airport, kicking and screaming. He didn't even see Brian in the morning and Brian hadn't let him into their bedroom last night and all he kept asking, all he kept shouting was "why?"

Brian watched from the window of his house and a single tear ran down his cheek but he wouldn't cry. Not now. This was best for everyone, he was sure of that. He couldn't keep Justin penned on this island any longer. Even if he'd changed his mind now, Justin had applied for that place at some point and that meant, at some point, Justin had been looking for another option. Well fuck if Brian was going to deny him that.

::

Michael gasped into consciousness. At least, he thought it was consciousness. All he could see was blackness and all he could smell was a mixture of blood, stale breath and smoke. He tried to move his arms but his wrists were tied tightly behind his back and his legs were bound to the chair he was sat on.

He tried to speak but it just came out as a dry, hoarse cough.

"Ahhh," the voice from the prison said happily. "He wakes."  
>Michael coughed again and asked a series of questions he knew wouldn't be answered; "where am I? What's happening? Who are you?"<p>

The only response he received was "where's Brian Kinney?"

Michael frowned. Brian? What the hell could he have to do with any of this? From what Debbie had told him, Brian had been in hiding in Madagascar since he'd been arrested. What could he have done to get himself into trouble from there? And why the fuck would they come for Michael? They had nothing to do with each other anymore.

"Didn't you hear me?" The voice came again, closer this time, "I said, where's Brian Kinney?"

Michael remained silent. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice when it came to Brian's whereabouts, especially not with people who wouldn't even let him see their faces. Brian's hideout could be the only bit of information keeping him alive.

"Come on, Novotny," the voice said, "be nice to us and we'll be nice to you. Where's Kinney?"

Silence.

"No." The voice was really close now, right in his ear. "Nothing? Fine. Maybe this will change your mind."  
>Michael fidgeted as heat began pouring into his left foot, he flinched away but there was nowhere for him to go, the flame was scorching him, he could practically feel the skin bubbling and burning. He tried to flinch away, he struggled, pulling back and he knew the ropes were rubbing his ankles raw as he struggled. It was pure, unadulterated agony. He screamed and it was over.<p>

"Well," the voice asked chuckling a little, "do you know where Kinney is now?"

"No," he half-coughed, half-gasped.

"That's not what you said last time you were asked that question," a second voice, with a heavy Mexican accent chucked, actually chuckled, as though this was an excellent game. "You were happy to turn him over to the policia. So why not to us, eh?"

"Maybe, if I knew who you were?"

"You already know me … Mikey." Then he leaned in close to his ear and whispered his name. Michael froze.

"No," he whispered. "It's been so long."  
>"Not as long as you'd hoped for, I imagine," he replied and Michael could hear the smirk and feel the heat from an approaching flame, dancing near his leg. "Now," the Mexican voice said firmly, and Michael could feel the fire lapping at him, like a dog on a leash waiting to be released. It was uncomfortable and he squirmed a little but he knew it was going to get worse … so much worse if past record was anything to go on.<p>

"Do you know where Brian Kinney is?"

Michael closed his eyes and braced himself for the heat and said, "no."

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. I'm sorry for the darkness ... I hope it won't put too many of you off reading.<br>I.B...xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to my readers. My wonderful American beta Boriqua522 and my Spanish beta Albiku. Without them, the characters would sound British and Ignacio would speak google-translated Spanish ... not good!**

**All British spellings are not the fault of my beta. My Britishness refuses to allow me to spell realise with a 'z' or saviour without a 'u' or even litre with an 'er' so blame me for those. **

**Enjoy ... well, I say enjoy.**

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><p>Brian had been lying in bed all day. He hadn't got up to let Anja in. He hadn't allowed her come in and make his bed. He hadn't answered the phone calls. He hadn't turned on the TV or the radio. He hadn't done anything. He didn't feel like doing. He felt empty and sick, like an addict going cold turkey and he knew what he was craving, it was obvious but he wouldn't admit it aloud. He just kept reminding himself that this was best for everyone; besides, Justin had clearly applied to PIFA and so, however hard he'd protested last night, on some level Justin still wanted to chase his dreams of becoming an artist.<p>

The doorbell rang sometime around one but Brian didn't bother to answer it. He was sure it would be Emmett and Debbie calling in to, in their words, console him, but he knew they'd just irritate the hell out of him until he was ready to kill them both. It rang again sharply and then it stopped. He frowned. Maybe it hadn't been Debbie or Emmett. They'd have kept ringing until he admitted defeat and let them in, he knew that. So who the hell had it been? His questions were soon answered when there was a tapping at his bedroom window and Ted called through the thin glass;

"Brian, let me in. This is important. Have you seen the news?"

Brian was at the front door in seconds. He knew that when Ted said something was important, it was important. Ted didn't mess around and he didn't over exaggerate.

"What's happened?" He asked and Ted just looked back solemnly.

"Turn on the news," was all he said.

::

"Police have found a body in an abandoned warehouse in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania this morning," the news reporter said calmly. "So far, the police have been unable to identify the body but have said that the death was caused by burning the victim alive. Police say that they are following some leads but evidence is limited at this time and implore anyone who knows anything, to call them on the number at the bottom of the screen now."

"Shit," Brian muttered under his breath. "That's him, isn't it? That's his fucking calling card." He looked solemnly at Ted and saw the terror in the other man's face. "He's found us. Alfredo's found us."

::

"Right," Brian said, sitting down on the sofa, head in his hands. He was wide awake now. No more moping about. This was serious. "We're okay." He said, thinking aloud. "He doesn't know where we are. He doesn't know where any of us are. We're all out of the country."  
>"All of us except…."<p>

"I know," Brian cut him off. He couldn't bear to hear it. It would somehow make it more probable, more likely that that charred, frazzled body in the warehouse was that of…. He couldn't even think it. Yeah, he hated Michael at this moment but a moment of madness couldn't wipe out a whole lifetime together. He wanted him locked up forever, he wanted him to pay but he never wanted him dead … not like this. "But he's…. They wouldn't break into the prison," he muttered, frantically. "They wouldn't. It's too dangerous. Isn't it? Ted? Ted! Tell me it's too dangerous."  
>"It's too dangerous," the other man said but he clearly didn't mean it and it just made Brian feel sick to his core. "Does Deb know?" He whispered.<p>

"She can't. She hasn't said anything."

"What about the others? Are they safe?"  
>"I haven't heard," Ted muttered.<p>

"Find out," he snapped angrily. Ted nodded mutedly, prompting Brian to yell, "Now."

"Right, sure" Ted babbled. "Can I set up here?"

Brian just nodded and went to take a shower. He just needed some alone time. He needed to clear his mind of all this emotion. This was fucking Justin's fault. Brian had spent years putting up emotional blocks for a reason and Justin had just come along and smashed them all down. Now look at him. He was a mess and he was afraid and that was Justin's fault too. Before now, he'd never had a reason to live but now, he couldn't die. He couldn't suffer the same fate as Michael. He couldn't do that to Justin.

::

Justin picked up his art folder and looked at himself in the mirror. It was like the first day of school all over again. He wouldn't know anyone; would he be able to make friends? Did he even want to? He knew who his friends were and they were all having a lovely lazy time in Madagascar whilst he was back in miserable fucking Pittsburgh, back home living with his mom. It was bullshit. He'd give anything to go back to where he belonged but would Brian even accept him when he returned?

He'd considered escaping. He'd tried to work out a plan to return to Madagascar but it was impossible. His mother had taken his passport and he didn't have any money. Thanks to Ted he knew about tracking and if he'd taken her credit card, they'd have found him in seconds. So, here he was, standing in front of his mirror with his mom at the bottom of the stairs telling him to 'hurry up'.

"Have a great day," his mom called with horribly misplaced optimism, as Justin got out of the car and faced his brand new prison. He knew what it would be like as soon as he entered the class and he wasn't wrong. He could feel everyone staring at him and why wouldn't they? A year ago he was the most famous face in Pittsburgh; the boy who'd been kidnapped, then the boy who'd been murdered, and finally the boy who returned from the dead. Justin Taylor was a celebrity for several months and once you've tasted fame, people are always around to remind you what it's like.

"Aren't you the fag? The one with Stockholm syndrome," one guy asked from the desk behind.

Justin considered this for a moment. He didn't have Stockholm Syndrome. He'd just fallen in love with his captor, which was completely … okay it was basically the same. Except that Brian had saved him from his father, so really, he'd fallen in love with his saviour, which is the basis of almost every fairytale. But that was all too long an answer so he just said, "no" and left it at that.

That was pretty much how the rest of his day played out, from morning to evening, he fended off questions about what it was like to die and what it was like to be kidnapped and what had happened to the guy who did it, which just made it clear to Justin that most people don't pay any attention to the news.

Eventually, it was time to go home and Justin was relieved when he saw his mother's car parked waiting for him.

"Good day?" She asked as he got in the seat beside her.

"Horrible," was the only word she could get out of him and eventually she gave up asking questions.

::

"BRIAN KINNEY YOU ASSHOLE! OPEN THIS DOOR NOW!"

"I think Deb might know about the body," Ted quipped.

"You … work," Brian said, pointing to the computer and going to answer the feverish hammering himself. He braced himself, expecting to be slapped of punched or injured in some way, so when he opened the door and Debbie fell onto him sobbing her heart out, he wasn't sure how to react.

"It's him, isn't it?" She whispered.

"We don't know that yet," Brian said firmly.

"Oh, don't give me that shit," Debbie growled at him. "I know it's him. They haven't confirmed it yet but I called the prison earlier and they said they couldn't give me any information on Michael at this time. Then Emmett tried and they said the same thing. When Ben went in for visiting hours, they said Michael was on a lockdown and couldn't come today. It's all lies though. They've lost him. He's d-."  
>"Don't say it," Brian warned. "I'm not believing it until we know. Ted's doing some work finding stuff out now. So just hold tight until then. Now, can I get you a drink?"<p>

"What's the strongest thing you've got?"  
>"Whiskey."<p>

"Great, I'll have a litre."

It was a waiting game. Ted sifting through locked police databases and FBI files on the murder, Debbie anxiously sat at his side becoming more and more drunk, Brian watching from the breakfast bar. He didn't need to be right there. He'd know immediately if the body was named. Emmett was keeping busy dusting and rearranging.

"You know," he was jabbering away like a muted radio in the background, "this house could really do with some proper feng-shui. The chi is all wrong." He breathed in deeply, closed his eyes and stretched out his arms to his side. "Yes, there's so much negativity." By this time, he'd moved to the kitchen and was rearranging the fruit bowl.

"Honeycutt," grumbled Brian. More rearranging.

"Honeycutt!" A banana placed to the right of the apples.

"HONEYCUTT!" He yelled, grabbing the fruit bowl and launching it at the wall. It splattered everywhere.

"Jeez, Brian, no need to shout."

"Will you stop fucking rearranging," Brian snarled, "unless you want me to rearrange your face."  
>"A-actually," Emmett stuttered, "I'm okay with my face in its current arrangement."<p>

"Fuck off then."

"Fucking off," Emmett confirmed brightly, going to get a damp cloth and clean up the stain left by the fruit.

Once the wall was cleaned up, Emmett settled on the bar stool next to Brian. The silence between them was awkward. They both knew what Emmett wanted to know but Brian wasn't in the mood to give answers to questions that hadn't been asked. He just focused on Ted as he trawled thousands of files and sites. Brian could only hope he was getting somewhere.

"Brian," Emmett said eventually, playing idly with an egg timer that was sitting near his hands, "are we in danger?"

"You're not," Brian sighed.

"But you are?"

Brian didn't bother to answer that question. It was obvious that they were in danger and Emmett was just being stupid, like he always was in these situations. He always had to dramatise things and turn it them some Hollywood film but this wasn't Hollywood, this was Hammer Horror and he felt sick.

And then Debbie screamed. Brian ran to her side and looked at the screen, which showed a hacked police report that Michael had broken out of prison.

"He wouldn't have," Ted muttered. "He was weeks from getting out. He said he was going straight."

"Easier said than done," Emmett quipped brightly from the kitchen and suddenly there was a gunshot that fired straight past Emmett's head and hit the cupboard just inches to his right.

"Holy shit," he muttered, staring fearfully down the barrel of Brian's gun.

"Get out of here, Honeycutt," he muttered, through gritted teeth. He wasn't looking at the tall flamboyant man, he was looking at the floor but he was red and shaking and his veins were popping in his neck and forehead.

Debbie was already at his arm, slowly removing the gun and emptying it of bullets and when he was completely unarmed, she slammed him hard around the head.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I need a drink," was all Brian said. Surprisingly, Brian didn't go for the whiskey or the beer he went for a glass of water and a couple of aspirins. He was a mess, it was clear to everyone.

"Why don't you go and lie down?" Debbie said soothingly. "We'll come and get you if we learn anything else."

Brian nodded and walked mutedly to his room. He both hated and loved this room. He loved it because it was half his and half Justin's; it had shared objects, shared memories, shared pleasure. He hated it because it was half his and half Justin's; it had shared bitter feelings from that last night they'd had together, it had shared anger, shared hatred. He slumped into the bed, pulled a cushion towards him and inhaled deeply. It smelt like Justin and if he closed his eyes, he could imagine Justin was there.

::

BANG!

Brian woke with a start. He hadn't even realised he'd dropped off but he'd been napping for nearly and hour and….

SPLUTTER. POP. CRACKLE.

Shit. That was his boat. It always made ridiculous noises because he'd bought it cheap and fixed it up himself and….

BANG!

What the hell was going on!

Brian jumped out of bed, grabbed his secondary gun, the one that hadn't been taken off him by Debbie and raced through the sitting room. It was empty, except for Ted's computers and papers. Clearly, Ted and Debbie had gone to find the source of the noise too. Honeycutt might be there too but he didn't care, he still felt mainly hatred for the pathetic, know-nothing flamer.

There was no noise except the slight bang-banging of the front door as it flapped on its hinges. Brian kicked it open, because he could, and pointed his gun onto the beach. He still couldn't see anyone and then he rounded the corner and found them all at the jetty, looking anxiously at a giant piece of drift wood that had found its way to his shore. No. Wait. That wasn't drift wood. That was his fucking boat; capsized with huge great fucking holes in it. Brian legged it along the wooden beams down to the commotion.

"What the fuck happened?" He demanded, furiously of Debbie.

"Don't look at me," the woman replied innocently. "We were still trying to find out what happened at the warehouse and then…." She gestured helplessly to the capsized boat.

"Do you think someone's inside?" Emmett asked, peering anxiously over Ted's shoulder. Brian looked around at his haphazard gang and sighed.

"I guess there's only one way to find out. Ted go to the other end of the boat. Deb, Emmett," he handed his gun to the latter, "you know what to do."

The two nodded solemnly. Debbie removed her own gun from her handbag and they both pointed towards the capsized vessel.

"On three," Brian mouthed to everyone. He counted down quickly. He and Ted lifted the boat and Emmett and Debbie pointed at a skinny little Mexican man, who cried;

"¡No disparen! ¡No disparen!"

"Put your guns down," Brian ordered immediately, rolling the boat away and crouching down next to the man.

"Ignacio," he said putting his hand on the man's shoulder. "Ignacio, what happened? ¿Qué ha pasado?"

"Le secuestraron. Secuestraron a Marv."

"Where did they take him?" Brian asked feverishly "Ignacio, ¿a dónde se lo han llevado?"

"Idiota," Ignacio spat back. "Have you not seen the news? They take him there. They…." He broke down, wiping a trickle of blood that persisted from his eyebrow.

"They kill him. He is found outside the, er, the, er … almacén."

"Warehouse," Brian translated.

"Sí, warehouse. And they…" Ignacio was struggling to get his words out. He was tired and in pain and hurting for so many reasons "Le quemaron" He collapsed even further in on himself and Brian dragged him to sit up a little so he was leaning against him.

"Do you know that was Marv?" Brian said sternly. "Do you _know _that was Marv?"

"¿Tú que crees? ¡Joder!" Ignacio screamed, beating Brian on the chest with all his mite until he was sobbing and crying again. "Por supuesto que sé que era Marv."

"How?" Brian practically shouted. This was too much for him now. Michael or Marv? A friend of his had been brutally murdered in that warehouse. "How do you know it was him?"

"Yo estaba allí," Ignacio screamed, throwing himself to the ground. He'd curled up in a tight ball, clutching his knees to his chest and sobbing as though his stomach was trying to escape through his throat. "Yo estaba alli," he kept repeating. And then, "Marv."

Brian just stared at the mess of human being ahead of him and shut his eyes. He couldn't help wonder if this would have been him had he just seen Justin burned alive from the inside by a fierce electric current. He just shook his head, the thought burned his brain and he muttered;  
>"Deb, Emmett, get him inside. Give him some food and clean him up."<p>

Ted rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed a little. "So the body was Marv's?"

Brian just nodded silently and mumbled,  
>"He was there. Ignacio, he saw it happen."<p>

"That's sick."

"That's Alfredo," Brian whispered.. He was numb, staring at a spot on the sand. There was a slightly dark patch caused by the sweat and blood that had been coming from Ignacio. He'd stained Brian's perfect little paradise, tainted it with Brian's old life. His life before Justin, a life even before Emmett was involved. This was a life Brian still had nightmares about. A life when he'd been in way over his head, when he'd been a little upstart fucking with the real psychopaths. It was a time when he lived for near-death … a time before he had a reason to live. He looked up to his house. And Ted followed his gaze and said allowed what he thought;  
>"Why did he let him go?"<p>

"Maybe he escaped," Brian mused. "Or," he knew it was more likely that, "they've used him to find us."

"We're on the run again, aren't we?" Ted sighed.

Brian gave a bitter sort of laugh. "Aren't we always?"

They were silent for a moment. The sound of the lapping waves which used to sooth him made him feel sick. Marv was gone. Michael was gone from prison. He just thanked every version of a God that Justin was miles away in Pittsburgh out of all of this because he couldn't protect him through this.  
>This was far more dangerous than a dirty copper on the run. This was a gang that had been carrying out it's will for years. It only ventured into the public eye when it was sending a message and Brian had received the message, loud and clear.<p>

"Er, Brian," Ted said steadily. He sounded a little embarrassed and angst-ridden.

"Yeah?"

"I er," he was fiddling with the bottom of his shirt, twisting it furiously between his fingers, "I … I have something important to tell you … about Stockwell."

Brian looked up at one of his oldest friends and frowned, pushing himself straight to his feet.

"What?" He asked. Ted scratched his stomach furiously and Brian looked down and raised an eyebrow. "What are you fucking pregnant? What is it?"

Ted was just about to say it when Deb yelled from the porch,  
>"Kinney, get your skinny ass here now. This fucker won't speak a word of English to us."<p>

"He can be a stubborn bastard," Brian growled, marching up to the house, leaving Ted on the sand, his important information forgotten for now.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading. Also, a quick thanks to Bryton4ever71, your lovely reviews are one of the reasons I continue to write this drivel!<strong> **The rest of you can blame him for the fact this crap keeps clogging up the fandom. :D**

**Love you all!  
>xx<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you to everyone who read/ reviewed/ favourited this story! You're all aaaaaaaaawesooooome****!**

**Also, thank you to Boriqua522 for her beta-ing skills!**

* * *

><p>After much argument, it was decided that it was probably safest to stay at Brian's house, purely because it had the advantage of being an island. So, after one last 'Armageddon's-coming' style shopping trip that meant they had to strip out Justin's old studio just to have somewhere to put all the food and supplies, they shut off the island for the foreseeable future. Ted began his usual set up of security cameras and strategic points around the island. Brian and Ignacio waded out into the ocean and set up a tripwire like system that would set off an alarm if any boats came close. Debbie started loading guns and placing them around the house.<p>

"Easy to grab but out of sight," she'd explained to everyone, when she took them on a weird arms tour of the house. Brian felt sick. His little slice of peaceful paradise has been turned into a fortress of fear and now, it was just a waiting game. Would they come? If they did how many would there be? What would they even want?

::

It had been fifty-three hours and twenty three minutes of laying low. Emmett, as usual, was taking the whole event in his stride and would spend most of the day sitting on the sofa with Debbie watching old black and white Bette Davies movies. In short, Emmett was doing exactly what he would have done on any other day. In Justin's absence, he'd been demoted to chef again, though that chore was usually taken over by Debbie. She liked to think she was taking care of her boys and as far as Brian was concern, the less time she spent bothering him and Ted whilst they'd tried to find some kind of information about Michael the better.

Sometimes, at his darkest moments, usually just before food or just after an argumentwith Emmett or Debbie over something pointless and trivial, Brian would wonder why he was even bothering to find out Michael's welfare. Michael hadn't given a shit about him when the roles were reversed. In fact, Michael had handed him and Justin over to the police like lambs to slaughter but, despite everything, Brian still felt a brotherly bond with Michael that he just couldn't turn off, no matter how hard he tried. And possibly more than that, it wouldn't be worth the nagging from Deb if he didn't do all he could. Anyway, he looked over to Ignacio, who was curled up on a chair watching whatever shitty movie Emmett had dragged out from his movie fag-athon DVD collection, he owed it to Marv and Ignacio to find out what Alfredo was really up to and why, after all this time, he'd come to get them.

"Anything?" He asked Ted, leaning back from his computer screen and sipping at his coffee. It was the only thing that kept him going through these long days of trawling for information.

"Nothing," Ted replied. His nose was still glued to screen and Brian had no doubt that it would stay that way until it was time to eat, or sleep, or piss. Ted didn't seem to do a lot else in situations like this. "But," the balding man continued, "I'm not expecting much. This is way over the police, way over the CIA, even the FBI. Alfredo Jimenez doesn't mess around, you know that."

Brian nodded and took another sip of his drink before flicking his screen to check the cameras around the island. As always, there was no movement in any of them and he returned back to a page from a CIA database about recent gang warfare. It was all useless, just name after name of young people who'd been caught carrying guns or knives with no better excuse than; "I need it for protection."

Even he, Brian Kinney, the guy who had his first gun by his fifteenth birthday, looked at the never ending list of gang members and thought the world was turning to shit.

"Have you spoken to Ignacio about the, er, incident yet?" Ted asked in a low voice.

Brian shook his head solemnly. "I don't know how," he admitted. "I'm sure there's so many important things he could tell us, like how many men has he got working for him and what he's after but…." He looked over to the broken mess of a man, sharing a tub of ice cream with Emmett and sighed defeated. "I can't. Have you noticed he's clawing at his skin just like he used to. I was thinking last night, if they set fire to…." He trailed off. His throat felt choked as pain and emotion seemed to swell up inside it. He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that Marv was gone. "Anyway," he continued, running his hand down his face, though Ted would never know whether he was dislodging tears or not, "if they did that. He'd panic and then he'd…"  
>"Shit," Ted interrupted as the point Brian was making suddenly dawned on him. "And Alfredo would know about that particular problem of Ignacio's."<p>

"Yeah," Brian nodded solemnly.

Suddenly the phone rang. Ted and Brian shared an anxious glance. Who the hell could possibly be ringing them?

"Hang on, I'll record it," Ted whispered, setting up an old fashioned machine in seconds and nodding to Brian. Brian picked up the receiver and suddenly red lights flashed all around the room. Someone had breached the tripwire.

"Brian, hang up," Ted insisted.

"Shit," Brian hissed and was just about to obey his friend when he recognised the voice.

Wait, was that … "Justin?"

Brian couldn't really make out what the younger man was saying. The line was shit and Justin was shouting so loudly that the static was going crazy. Besides, Alfredo could be at the door any fucking second so quite frankly he had more pressing matters.

"What are you talking about?" He demanded but Justin just kept screaming and Ted was gesturing wildly at him to get into the master bedroom and Emmett was dragging Ignacio, who'd fallen asleep, across the floor and they could all be about to die and he suddenly felt like he needed to tell Justin he loved him. This felt like it could be his last chance.

"I…" He started but Justin informed him he didn't want to hear any excuses.

"Fine but…." And Justin just kept ranting.

"But I…."

"Brian, come on," Debbie yelled. Brian looked at the receiver and slammed it down.

"I love you," he whispered to the dead line before running to Emmett and helping him with Ignacio.

They raced into the master bedroom and led him awkwardly on the bed.

"What's wrong with him?" Emmett demanded. "I was expecting him to wake up when I moved him."

"He's cataplectic," Brian sighed. "He gets fucking paralysedwhen he's scared or nervous or embarrassed; even when he comes. He can still hear you though, he knows what's happening sometimes he tries to talk, that's always funny, make him talk."

"What is that, a defence mechanism?" Debbie asked, peering at the paralysedman, and poking him with a painted red nail.

"No, it's fucking retarded," Brian frowned. He'd lost interest in Ignacio and his pathetic state now and was watching the camera's over Ted's shoulder on the laptop.

"He's like an opossum," Emmett said, with the same intrigued expression as Debbie.

"Yeah, that's what we used to call him, Tlacuche" Brian said off-hand. He still couldn't see anyone on the cameras. Then louder, he added, "did you hear that Tlacuache? They think you're an opossum too. Ha!" Ignacio's mouth began to move and he slurred a series of dribble and slurred Spanish-sounding syllables. Brian chuckled and said, so only Ted could hear, "he's calling me every Spanish swearword under the sun."

"How long do you think it'll be til he gets up?"

"If we have to run?"

Ted nodded, refusing to take his eyes off the screen.

"I'll carry him," Brian said firmly.

"Are you going to be able to?"

"There's no other option, we can hardly leave him here like that. I'd say that's exactly how Alfredo'll like him."

"I guess they had to base their relationship on something." Suddenly, he twitched his head to the side and pointed to the screen. "Is that a girl?"

Brian squinted, moving so close to the image, his nose was practically bumping the screen until he muttered, "shit. It's just Anja."

::

MEANWHILE …

"Hi."

Justin barely looked up from his lunch. He expected to be asked if the only other chair left at his six person table could be borrowed so he just gestured that he wasn't using the chair and went back to pushing a baby tomato around his plate with a fork.

"I, er," the voice came again and Justin looked up properly this time. It was a guy, curly blackish-brown hair, and stunning brown eyes that reminded him a little of Brian's.

"Can I help you?" Justin frowned.

"Can I sit here?" The guy asked. Justin's brow furrowed. No one ever wanted to sit with him. He was the freaky fag with Stockholm Syndrome, most people could hardly even bring themselves to ask to borrow a pen, or take a chair. He just shrugged. He'd got a long way over the last couple of days by not saying a word to anyone and this guy seemed to take his shrug as a 'yes' and Justin soon sensed the general movement of another body. It was a slightly alien feeling for someone who'd been ruthlessly training themselves to never be close to another person again.

After a few moments of what would probably be awkwardness if Justin was capable of such feelings anymore, the boy said,

"I'm Ethan Gold by the way."

"I know who you are," Justin replied. He hadn't meant to sound creepy and weird but he wasn't particularly bothered if he did. Besides, he really did know the other guy, sort of. He'd been in Ben's class when Justin had crept in looking for Hunter.

"Right," Ethan nodded. "Of course you do. You've heard of my violin talent."

"No," Justin replied, still not looking up from his tomato game. "You were in Ben Bruckner's class last year. I saw you there. You had some, er," Justin tried to wrack his brains for a polite way of saying conceited or arrogant but he couldn't, so he settled with, "interesting ideas on how to merge fags and breeders."

"By my music," he said immediately.

"Like I said," Justin answered coolly, getting to his feet, "interesting."

He'd had enough of the 'interesting' Ethan Gold and was ready to sit alone in another part of the college until he could go to another lesson. It appeared Ethan Gold wasn't going to let it be that easy. He stalked Justin all the way from the cafeteria to the library, where Justin always hid when the weather was a little overcast. The whole way Ethan was saying things like;

"I don't believe that you were in Bruckner's class. I'd have seen you. I wouldn't forget a face like yours." and "I've heard you're a really talented artist. Maybe we could make a trade, a song for a piece of art." And even, "Perhaps we could study together, I've got a big room in halls that we could use."

Justin had tried ignoring him. He'd sat in the library for ten minutes ignoring every word that came out of the asshole's mouth but still the conceited bastard wouldn't leave him alone. What was wrong with this guy? Any normal person would have given up ages ago but Justin already had a fair idea that Ethan was not a normal person.

"So," Ethan was saying for the third time, "maybe we could discuss it over a coffee after class."

Justin had no idea what the 'it' was. It might have been art or music or queers or breeders or nature or studying or any of the other million and one topics Ethan had attempted to discuss with him but it didn't matter. Justin didn't want to go anywhere with Ethan.

"I have a boyfriend," he exploded, which was responded to by about twelve or so stroppy students hushing him violently. God he hated this fucking place.

"Who?" Ethan asked innocently.

"None of your business," Justin replied bitterly.

"Is he here?"

"None of your business."

"No, then."

"Shut the fuck up," Justin said louder than he should have. And this time when the shushing came, he was too pissed to care. "SHUT UP!" He yelled at them all.

::

"Banned?" Molly asked, when Justin explained the reason he'd come home during his free period instead of going to the library. He shrugged; silence worked at home too. "How loud did you shout?"

"Very," Justin replied, before stomping up the stairs to his room.

It was maybe half an hour after he should have left if he'd wanted to be on time for his next class; 'Drawing Still Life'. He didn't want to be on time. He didn't care about being on time for anything ever again. But he knew his mother still cared, and he knew she'd appear sooner or later to find out why he wasn't at school.

"Justin." Right on cue. "Justin, honey. Shouldn't you be in class."

"Probably," he called back. He didn't bother to invite her in but he heard the door creak open regardless.

"Sweetie," he heard her whisper. He didn't turn around. He wasn't her sweetie anymore. He wasn't her naïve kid. He'd seen so much, he just didn't fit in here. Not now, not after everything that had happened to him.

"I don't understand all this," his mother continued. "If you didn't want to go to PIFA, why did you apply?"

Justin turned sharply to glare at her.

"You mean you didn't apply?"

"No," she said, "I assumed you'd done it. I thought you'd seen sense, realised that you needed options other than Brian but…."  
>"That asshole," Justin cried, grabbing the phone and thumbing the number in so hard with his finger the tip was bending back. The phone made that weird, gurgling noise it always did when it was an international call. It was though the fish themselves were connecting the call and with every millisecond of the strange noise, Justin was more and more angry.<p>

The phone rang forever.

"You fucker," Justin practically screamed. "Pick up the fucking phone, I know you're there." He wondered briefly if perhaps Brian was caught up in bed with a hot young Madagascan man. He was sure there would be plenty willing to do the job. He'd seen the way Herdo, who worked the meat section at the supermarket looked at Brian. He'd heard the endless 'do you like Madagascan sausage' puns and the Brian's equally flirtatious 'I love it' in fucking Malagasy. His Malagasy was shit. Anja had told Justin once,

"Mr Kinny, he tries. It is cute but he is wrong, always."

Still, being wrong had never put Brian Kinney off before. Besides, it seemed the Madagascan's thought it was sweet that he tried, especially Herdo at the fucking Meat Section. The flirting hadn't bothered Justin much when he was at Brian's side and Brian was introducing him with 'izy no vadiko' not knowing Justin had done a little Malagasy research of his own and was very aware that Brian calling him his husband. But that was all over now. Brian had sent him away by applying on his behalf to PIFA and he'd probably feel it was perfectly acceptable to fuck whoever he liked … even Herdo.

In fact, by the time the phone was answered, he'd worked himself up so much, it was no surprise that the conversation went a little like this.

"You took fucking ages to pick up. What's the problem? Ball deep in hustlers, I suppose."

"Justin?"

"Who the fuck else were you expecting? Herdo from the butchers?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You! You're a fucking whore. Just tell me how many."

"I…."

"No, I don't want to hear your excuses."

"But I…."

"You know, fuck you. It doesn't even matter. I can do the same."

"I…."

"I can fuck who I want when I want to and…."

The phone was slammed down and Justin was left ranting to a dial tone.

If Brian was allowed to have fun, fucking around on the white beaches of Madagascar, then Justin was allowed to fuck around too.

"Well, Mr Kinney," he muttered to himself as he put down the phone and headed to Babylon. "I hope the hot sand burns your fucking dick off."


	6. Chapter 6

Justin had given himself time off from college for "grief". He'd told the college that his dad had died and that wasn't much of a lie. Craig had been dead to him for over a year but that wasn't why he was grieving. He wasn't grieving at all. He was celebrating because it turned out his mother had been right. Staying in Madagascar with that asshole Brian _would_ have been the worst mistake of his life. He was young and hot; all the guys at Babylon thought so. In fact, he'd been out every night this week and so far he'd only spent money getting through the door. Once he was inside, it was his kingdom of willing slaves, happy to fork out a few dollars for him in his conquest of getting drunk.

Five nights of solid partying, however, still hadn't led him to the kind of partying he knew Brian was doing. It wasn't as though he hadn't had options. He'd had every option; tall, short, young, old, fat, thin, black, white. They all wanted him but he didn't want any of them. He wanted tall dark and handsome. He wanted predictably unpredictable, he wanted sullen and moody but somehow romantic. He wanted someone who could make him hard with just one glance or one word. He wanted someone who'd talk dirty to him in Spanish because he knew he loved it. He wanted someone who'd fuck him so hard, he'd be begging for it to stop and begging for more at the same time. He wanted Brian. Or….

He spotted a guy in the distance. He was stood on the balcony, prowling the room like a lion just searching for the perfect gazelle to devour and Justin could tell his eyes were fixed on him. The very way the man stood reminded Justin of Brian. The way he carried himself, the way he stared, the way he smirked when he knew he had Justin in his grasp. Justin knew that this was the guy. This was the guy he wanted to fuck him. This was the guy he wanted to take his second virginity, in his second life, the one that clearly didn't involve Brian Kinney.

::

"Do you know what this is?" Emmett sighed, twirling his scarf around his fingers. And when no one answered, he said, "boring."

"I swear to God, Honeycutt," Brian groaned, pinching his nose, "it's a miracle I haven't killed you yet."

"Awww," Emmett mused, "I miss this this violent-threatening relationship we used to have before Justin came along. Hiding out for hours, days, weeks, you threatening to put a bullet between my eyes every other day." He sighed nostalgically. "Good times."

Ted chuckled a little from the corner.

It was a _bit _like it used to be, except of course Michael wasn't there but in Ted's opinion, that was no huge loss. Towards the end, Michael had just become a whiny bitch anyway. This was the way he liked it. Brian and Emmett bickering like brothers and him attempting to find out if it was safe to leave their hideout yet.

Unbelievably, Brian smiled too.

"It does feel a little bit like the hideout after that job at Wal-Mart," he smirked.

"The one where _someone,_" he looked meaningfully at the bedroom, which Debbie was having a nap in, "told us to wear tights over our heads."

"And we just walked straight in through the front door with our faces covered in tights," Ted shook his head.

"The only reason we didn't get stopped was because the short-bus was in town and they were doing equally weird things," Brian added, he was really laughing now

"Oh God," Emmett said, his hands covering his face embarrassedly. "And I fell over."  
>"That's what happens when you wear platforms on the job," Ted added from the corner.<p>

"And the security guard caught you," Brian laughed so hard, he could barely get the words out, "but let you go because he was convinced you were too much of a fag to attempt to steal anything."

"I went on a date with him afterwards," Emmett remembered aloud. "He was very disappointing," he wiggled his little finger, as the universal symbol for badly endowed.

"Well, you know what they say," Ted smiled, relaxing a little and lying back in his chair, "you can't judge a book by its cover."  
>"Or the size of its biceps," Brian quipped, turning up the sound on the TV. He felt more relaxed than he had in a long time.<p>

"True," Emmett agreed. "I've learnt over time the larger the bicep, the smaller the dick. I guess it's the one muscle you can't make bigger by giving it a work out."

"And if you could, Brian's would be painfully long by now," Ted smirked.

"Literally," Emmett agreed. "There wouldn't be trousers wide enough to hide it."  
>"Or stilts long enough," Brian smirked. "I'd end up standing on it all the time. It would just hurt."<p>

"Arrogant asshole," Emmett said but he was laughing.

It was then that Ignacio emerged from his room. He'd been having a nap, partially brought on by his Cataplexy, partially brought on by the fact he was still trying to recover from the horrific ordeal of watching the love of his life and partner for almost ten years murdered in the worst possible way.

"Sleep well?" Brian asked, not really sure if that was the right question given the circumstances.

"Sì," he nodded, rubbing his bleary eyes. "I didn't have a, er, erm…" he fumbled for the right word. Brian noticed he'd been doing that more and more. It was as though Ignacio was shutting his brain down slowly and English words were the thing that was failing him first. "A er, bad dream." The other's nodded silently. Things were always a little awkward when Ignacio was around. No one wanted to upset him and no one knew what to say. Brian was aware the man hadn't had chance to mourn yet and he was still only young really. Twenty-six isn't old enough to lose the love of your life.

"How do you say this, bad dream?" Ignacio asked eventually. "Pesadilla."

"Nightmare," Brian translated quietly.

"Sì, nightmare," he agreed quietly. Then he repeated it almost silently. He was doing anything to keep his mind from working away from the topic of Marv.

The awkwardness wasn't lost on anyone. Brian, as usual, felt no need to combat the awkwardness with words, that was one of the reasons he kept Emmett around and right on cue, the taller of his companions said,

"well, I'm parched . Anyone need a drink?"

Everyone gave him their orders and he walked to the little bar to start pouring.

"I feel like Keri Russell in that film where she's a waitress," Emmett called happily from the kitchen. "What's that called Teddy?"  
>"Waitress," Ted deadpanned and without a hint of irony, Emmett replied,<p>

"That's the one."

Brian just shook his head exasperatedly. Were these really the greatest criminal minds he knew?

"What are you watching?" Ignacio asked suddenly, frowning at the screen. There were two sharks swimming around a man with a camera, taking photos.

"Fuck knows," Brian shrugged, throwing the remote to the Mexican. "Emmett put it on. You know what he's like with wildlife."

"Can I put on wrestling?"

"Professional wrestling?" Brian asked in disbelief. If there was one person he didn't think would be into professional wrestling, it was Ignacio.

"What other kind of wrestling is there?" Ted asked from behind his computer.

"When I was about fifteen, me and Mikey went to see Midget Wrestling," Brian smirked, as Ignacio went searching for USA channel. "Try 50," he suggested before returning to his story. "You should have seen it. They had a Michael Jackson tribute and Midget rappers," he smirked before adding, "one of whom gave excellent head."  
>"Are we ever gonna be in hiding where you don't come out with an 'I fucked a midget' story?" Ted asked. Brian loved it when Ted talked about Brian's sex life because however hard the older man tried to sound disdainful, he only ever managed to sound jealous.<p>

Suddenly, the TV leapt into action. It was like a whole new world where everything was slightly too over the top and loud and colourful and scripted and as one guy leapt backwards off the corner ropes, doing some absurd twirl before landing belly to belly with a man on the floor, Brian said,

"that is fucking ridiculous."

The ref counted to three and the man who'd been doing gymnastics started celebrating with his arm in the air, long hair flowing around his shoulders and a set of perfect abs.

"Hot though," Brian admitted as the image was ruined by a logo and then saved by two other examples of physical perfection talking about some kind of match.

"Oooo," Emmett squealed, setting the drinks on the coffee table and squeezing himself between Brian and Ignacio. "I love wrestling."

"You?" Brian scorned. This was even less likely than Ignacio.

"Hot guys, oiled up and rubbing all over each other … no self respecting fag can hate this."  
>"I hate this," Brian uttered, but a little lick of his lips gave him away as the next two model-like, body builders whipped their shirts off for the next fight.<p>

"Mentiroso," Ignacio smirked.

"Fuck off," Brian retaliated and Ignacio chuckled a little.

Emmett just looked between both of them and sighed. "It's times like this I wish I'd paid more attention to Señor Vasquez when he was teaching me to say '¿Coma estás?'."

"It's '¿Có_**mo**_ estás?," Brian corrected in a bored monotone. "But you were probably too busy sucking his cock to notice."  
>"I did do that actually."<br>"Christ, I was joking."

"I wasn't," Emmett said seriously. "What's the point in a gullible Spanish teacher if you can't confuse him about the legal age of consent and student/ teacher relationships in the US." Emmett thought for a second before finishing, "I think he got deported."

"Well you're just a one man crying owl, aren't you?"

Ignacio chuckled a little, causing Emmett to glare at him. "Oh don't pretend that made sense," he growled.

"In Mexico we have a saying," Ignacio explained, "'cuando el tecolote canta, el indio muere'." And spotting Emmett's confused face, he translated, "the crying owl; he brings much bad luck. That is all. Now shush," he flapped his hands at Emmett, turning his attention back to the screen, "this man is my favourite."

"Hey, Bri," Ted patted him on the shoulder and muttered in his ear, "can I talk to you … outside? It's important."

"Sure," Brian nodded and followed the other man out onto the moonlit beach, leaving Emmett and Ignacio to discuss which wrestler was the hottest.

::

Justin felt the guy grinding behind him. This was hot. He was ready for whatever this guy was going to do with him. They could go to his house or a motel and then Justin would show him every little trick he'd learnt from being with Brian.

"Wanna go?" The guy asked, his breath hot in his ear. It made Justin shiver and he leant his head back against the guys shoulder and nodded.

"Take me," he said back, very aware of how it sounded.

The guy smirked and guided Justin through the crowd. Their whispers didn't bother him anymore. They could call him The Kidnap Kid all they wanted, he was going home with the hottest fuck in there and they could all just live in jealousy.

The fresh air hit him like he'd walked suddenly into a fridge and he shivered as the sweat froze to his skin. His mind flashed briefly to a few weeks ago, when he'd been skinny dipping in the sea with Brian. That had been hot; in all senses of the word. He got hard just thinking about it and the guy he was with spotted it immediately.

"Someone's keen," the guy smirked in his ear. Justin was beginning to find it a bit odd that the guy insisted on standing right behind him, with his hand on his shoulder, especially when he turned down the alley that led away from Babylon. It was the very alley where Justin had attempted to mug Emmett all that time ago. That probably should have been a terrifying memory but he couldn't help see it fondly, except for the part where Michael had tried to shoot him but Brian had been there. He'd saved his life, just like he had on a daily basis … until now.

As they walked down the alley it began to get narrower and darker and Justin was caught between wanting to step closer to guy he was with and wanting to run away from him. As it was, he stayed the same distance he was, the guy still behind him. Eventually, the alley opened up a bit and they arrived in a small parking lot. There was nothing parked there except a van.

"What the hel-" But Justin never finished his words, because the guy slammed a hand over his mouth and hissed.

"Say nothing you little shit, you got it. You're coming with me."

Everything was a blur, Justin wasn't sure if it was because his eyes were leaking with frightened tears or whether it was because he was being thrown around like a football but he suddenly found himself tossed into the back of the van. Justin hit the floor hard and something around his left leg crunched horribly Justin waited for the pain to kick it but the shock of the doors slamming seemed to numb him. The world went black.

::

"What's up?" Brian asked, sitting on the outside hammock that Justin had insisted they purchase to hang between two conveniently placed palm trees.

"It's Stockwell."  
>"You were talking about this the other day," Brian said, suddenly serious.<p>

"Yeah," Ted said solemnly. "Look," he took a deep breath, "he's committed suicide or at least that's what the police records say"

"So?" Brian scowled. "Why should I give a shit if the guy's alive or dead?"  
>"Just … think about it," Ted urged calmly. "I mean, when Rikert killed himself just after the trial last year, no one raised an eyebrow. It made sense that he couldn't cope with people knowing what he was but with Stockwell. He'd have no reason. His names already dirt, he's been in prison a year. Why now?<br>"Maybe he's sick of being the bitch of some great black guy called 'Daggers'," Brian suggested.

"Be serious."

"I am being serious," Brian said. "Prison is fucking horrible, Ted. And it'll be worse for a former cop."

"I did consider that," Ted admitted. "But I checked him out, he had the best care and he requested to be kept in solitude. He barely saw anyone else, let alone have time to become … Dagger's, was it?"

Brian nodded.

"Dagger's bitch."

"So you think it's suspicious?"  
>"Don't you?"<br>"Maybe," Brian shrugged. In all honestly, with Alfredo on the loose, the fate of two dirty cops was the least of his worries.

"Right," Ted continued. He really seemed to think this was important, so Brian did his best to concentrate. Ted didn't usually get this obsessed with something unless he thought it was crucial to their current situation. "So, I did some research into his personal life, you know, to see if maybe his wife had left him or something."  
>"Nothing?" Brian guessed.<p>

"Exactly," Ted said exasperatedly. "So, I looked at the two deaths more closely and they're exactly the same, complete parallels, as though were planned."

"In what way?" Brian really was interested now.

"They were both hung from the middle bar on the window," Ted explained, "there's seven and they were both from the forth bar." Brian's face twitched a little. He didn't think that was really a reason to get excited. "There's more," Ted promised quickly, "they both died on the 13th."

Brian looked up suddenly. "Were they both Tuesdays?"

"Yeah," Ted replied. "How did you know that?"

"Martes Trece," Brian muttered.

"What does that mean?"  
>"It's just Tuesday 13th," Brian explained. "But it's bad luck in Mexico."<br>"Like this crying owl?" Ted asked, excitedly removing a piece of paper from his pocket.

"Do you ever relax?" Brian asked.

"Just look, these are the suicide notes" Ted urged, thrusting the paper into Brian's hands. "Here look."

He pointed near the bottom of the note before flipping the paper over and pointing to the last line of the other note.

"They both mention a crying owl," Brian whispered. "Which means," he was thinking aloud, "they were linked. Set ups by Alfredo, maybe. But that would mean that he goes into prisons, which means," Brian gulped, "he's definitely got Michael."

"Well, not definitely but…."

"Shit."

Brian wanted to scream. He wished it was two minutes ago when he thought Ted was losing it in his old age and was going to add him to team-crazy along with Twinkle-Toes Honeycutt, Old Loud Mouth Novotny and Opossum-man. But now he had to accept that Ted was not crazy and not only that, it meant that Alfredo had started this hunt right after last year's trial, maybe even before. He felt sick. How long had he been blindly living his life with no knowledge of Alfredo's presence? He should have known that becoming the most recognised face in the US would have notified his past life of where he was. He'd been running so long from it, he'd almost forgotten it was chasing him. They'd all forgotten, they'd become careless and now Marv was dead and Michael was missing.

He needed to start thinking like the criminal he was, or the criminal he used to be. He needed to start questioning everything, suspicious or not and then he whispered.

"Justin."  
>"What about him?"<p>

"He suddenly applied for PIFA out of nowhere."  
>"He didn't," Ted said.<p>

"What?"

"He didn't apply. His face when, what's his sister's name?"

"Molly."

"When Molly told him he'd got in, he was shocked. You saw how much he fought against it. I thought it was Jennifer's doing."  
>"No," Brian shook his head, "she told me it was Justin."<p>

"So who the hell…." But Ted was left talking to himself because now all Brian could think about was that Alfredo had crossed the line.

Justin wasn't involved all those years ago so he shouldn't be involved now. Brian had pledged his life to protect Justin. He'd told the young blond a million times that he'd happily die for him, not that Justin would know. His Spanish hadn't reached the point of being able to translate promises of undying love and that's how Brian liked it. He enjoyed that the kid could say 'fuck me harder' before 'I love you' but now, he wished he'd said it in English, just one more time. Brian couldn't die without Justin knowing exactly what he meant to him.

::

The world lit back up and Justin blinked against the new red mood-lighting. The man was in the back of the van with him. He opened his mouth to yell but the man silenced him with one huge, clammy palm. Justin looked all around his cell. It had been roughly boarded up with plywood but the floor was cushioned and softer than it should have been. It was like a lair, a fuck-pad on wheels. Justin looked at his captor's hungry expression.

"Right, you little fucker," he growled, getting close and wrenching Justin onto his front, "you're mine now … got it?"

Justin nodded. He couldn't believe this was going to happen. His first time without Brian was going to be like this.

He felt the guy undress him and he heard him undress himself. He heard the guy groan as the condom was put in position and then, because he couldn't hold it in any longer, Justin whimpered weakly.

Suddenly, the red light was replaced by white light and the man was flipping him onto his back.

"Shit," he exclaimed on seeing the tearful mess of Justin's face. "What's wrong?"

"This," Justin practically screamed. "You were gonna rape me."

"What?" The man looked around anxiously, as though the police were going to start kicking down the panels of his van. "No. No I wasn't."

"So what's all this?" Justin asked, hastily pulling up his pants and wiping the tears away.

"I thought you'd like it," the man said. He seemed honest enough, his expression full of apology. "You're The Kidnap Kid. Everyone knows you played sex slave to the hottest gang in Pittsburgh. I wanted to try it. I've been after you for days, Justin." It still freaked him out that everyone knew his name, but in this situation it was just another horror to add to a long fucking list. "I had this all set up because I thought you'd like it, I swear. Don't report me, please." It was his turn to whimper. "Please. My life's shit without this hanging over me. I work in the Big Q for fucks sake. Please. Don't say anything."

And in true Stockholm style, Justin began to feel sorry for the man. Was it true that this was all some big misunderstanding? And if so did that mean that every look he was given in Babylon was a lie? A look from perverts who thought he wanted to be fake kidnapped and smacked about to get hard. These fucking assholes, they thought they knew him.

"I won't say anything," Justin promised eventually.

"Thank you," the man sobbed. "Thank you. Where do you want to go?" He gabbled. "I'll take you home … or wherever."

"Madagascar," Justin muttered.

"Where?"

"Home, will be great," Justin smiled and the guy nodded feverishly.

Justin wasn't stupid. He'd learnt a few things from his time with criminals and he gave the guy an address from just down the street but the guy didn't try anything. In fact, he was still shaking when he dropped Justin off and he was still fumbling apologies as he drove away.

But Justin wasn't bothered by apologies; he just knew there was no way he was returning to Babylon ever again. If he was going to move on from Brian, he'd find someone else to do it with.

* * *

><p><strong>Apologies for any offence that might have been caused in this chapter. Just remember to you or me, Brian is NOT a nice person ... at least not in this AU.<strong>

**Thanks for reading!**  
><strong>xx<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Formatting issues all over the place in this one. It shouldn't affect the story too much though. Hope you enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: The name John Kramer belongs to the Saw franchise and not me.**

* * *

><p>Dead. Justin's mobile was always dead. It always rang until an optimistic robot informed Brian he'd reached Justin's number and that he should leave a message. He slammed down the phone.<p>

"I've left a thousand messages," he exploded.

"Brian, calm down," Debbie warned. She'd been trying to contact Justin too but she hadn't been able to get through either. "You're no good to anyone if you're acting crazy, least of all Justin."

Emmett was phoning too but Justin wouldn't even answer his calls. Ted was just scanning records to see if anything had happened to him but so far, he was just turning up blanks. No hospital records, no police records, no nothing.

"What if…." Brian began but he couldn't even entertain the idea. He was frantic. This was worse than Michael disappearing, so much worse, at least as far as he was concerned. Brian pretended not to notice that Debbie was alternating calls between her son's phone and Justin's. You'd have thought the loopy bat would have given up hope of Michael just answering the phone and claiming dodgy signal by now, besides, it was probably ringing away in some safe in the prison.

Brian picked up the phone and dialed the number again.

"_Bleep. You have reached the voice mail for…."_

He hung up and slumped to the floor, his head in his hands. He couldn't help but think the worst now. Alfredo had Justin. Alfredo had Justin in his sweaty disgusting palms, he was sure of it and he practically howled his theory into the night. Ignacio, who had been sitting on the sofa until this point, was unconvinced.

"He has not got him," he said confidently, "If he did, he would have told you or let you know in some way. He likes to fuck with people, play games psicológicos."

"He's got a point, Bri," Ted agreed. "Alfredo does seem to see himself as a John Kramer."

Brian felt sick at the comparison.

"Think of Ignacio," Ted pointed out. "He made him watch while Marv…." He trailed off, sensitive to the fact Ignacio was listening but it was too late. Ignacio had started to physically melt, first his face drooped, then his shoulders until he was slumped right forward, his head resting on his knees.

Brian swore sharply and rushed over to the sofa, putting Ignacio into the recovery position.

"Don't swallow your tongue, got it, you stupid bastard. I said 'no se tragues la lengua'." Then he crouched down by his friend and stroked his longish, straggly hair from his face and muttered, "it'll be okay. We'll find the asshole. You hear that, we'll make him pay."

Ignacio muttered something untranslatable in either language so Brian just thumbed his forehead one last time and went back to the phone to dial the number again.

"He could just be pissed at you," Emmett suggested, after Brian's attempt had failed again. "You did hang up on him the other day."

"That's true," Brian sighed before adding bitterly, "fucking Anja."  
>"Just be grateful it wasn't Alfredo," Debbie snapped at him, trying Michael again. That was clearly a dead-end too and then they heard Ted swear, low and under his breath.<p>

Brian looked up like a meerkat, twitching his head in the older man's direction.

"What is it Theodore?"

"Justin," Ted said solemnly, "he hasn't been at PIFA all week."

"Maybe he's ill," Debbie suggested but her optimism made Brian want to puke, or blow a hole through the ceiling … or her skull. He had to do something. This was it. He couldn't wait around any longer. Alfredo wasn't going to come to him. It wasn't Alfredo's way. He was like a hunter and Brian was a prized rabbit. Alfredo would smoke him out eventually and the longer he waited, more of his friends would get hurt. The more Justin would get hurt.

He didn't even share his decision with the group he just marched into his room purposefully. He could hear Emmett call, "I'm coming too." And he was surprisingly grateful. Emmett wasn't stupid. He could act it, in fact he acted it all too regularly. He could be blasé and naïve but he was a good shot and when things were serious, he always pulled through. Besides, he needed back up and Emmett was the best man for the job. That way, Ted could stay here and keep searching for information and Debbie could keep Ignacio safe and away from Alfredo because Brian was under no illusions that he was the prize in this hunt. Ignacio would be who Alfredo was after eventually. Brian was just someone who deserved a healthy dose of revenge on the way.

Brian steered the speedboat like a madman, but Emmett wasn't cheering this time. Even he, the king (or Queen) of misplaced optimism, had finally realised how serious this situation was. Unfortunately, he hadn't told his stomach so when Brian commandeered - okay, stole - a car that was near the harbour, Emmett insisted they drive to the supermarket to get supplies.

"It's a road trip," he claimed when Brian glared at him.

"We're thirty minutes from the airport," Brian snapped.

"But you don't know when we're going to be able to get on a plane," Emmett pointed out. "I'm not paying airport prices for snacks. Turn left."

Brian gritted his teeth and did as the other man asked. It really wasn't worth the argument. Besides, when Emmett was hungry or moody, he was more annoying than the most spoilt child Brian had ever met.

He screeched into the parking lot and parked in the most remote corner.

"How am I supposed to get to the store from here?" Emmett scowled.

"Evolution gave you legs for a reason."

"It's gotta be 100 yards away."

"Usain Bolt would be there in nine and half seconds."

"He would't do it in these shoes," Emmett scowled, showing off his shiny silver footwear. "Winklepickers," he explained, seeing the disdain on his companions face. "For picking up winkles," he winked.

Brian got out of the car and crouched down in front of it and, with a pot of tipex, he began changing the 'F's on the number plates into 'E's. He was already moving to the back of the car when he said casually,

"I'm leaving in five minutes, Honeycutt. If you're not back, you're staying here."

And Emmett took off across the car park in a time that would challenge even Bolt's fastest time in ridiculous silver winklepickers.

Brian was just about to climb back into his car when he heard someone say,

"faly miarahaba anao ra-namana."

Brian jumped. His hand shot straight to his gun, which was stowed safely in the waist band of his jeans, pressing against his lower back. He was immediately glad he didn't pull it out as he came face to face with Herdo. If he had pointed his gun at the guy, he'd no doubt have had to kill him and that would have been such a waste of hot, Madagascan ass.

"What are you doing?" Herdo asked. For a second Brian wondered if he'd been spotted altering the number plates but then Herdo continued, "you often park right in front of the doors, space or no space."

Brian smirked a little. He had started to do that. He'd parked on the pavement right in front of the sliding automatic doors if there was no space, anything to avoid walking from the store to the car with the groceries. He was pretty sure there was nothing more annoying than that in the world, except maybe returning the carts to their designated area. He'd lost hundreds of quarters over the year by just abandoning carts wherever he felt like it.

"My friend was annoying me," Brian said, it wasn't a lie. Emmett always annoyed him. "I decided to make him walk."

"Ah, Justin?"

"No, not Justin. He's gone home."

"To your island?"

Brian shook his head.

"To America?" Brian didn't even need to nod. Herdo could tell he was right just from the man's expression. "That is a great shame," Herdo said.

"Please," Brian snorted, "it was pretty obvious you and Justin hated each other."

"Not that he is left. That is no shame at all. It is a shame that I did not know this before now. I could have come to make you feel better. I know ways to make a man feel much better."  
>"That's a nice offer," Brian said, his eyes raking up and down the man ahead of him. "An exquisite offer, in fact," he sighed, looking away. "But I can't. I'm in a rush."<p>

"Road trip food," Emmett cried happily, opening the passenger door and dumping endless numbers of chocolate bars and crisp packets into the foot well. "I've got chocolate and lollies and bags of candy. Everything sweet," he declared, looking up and seeing the situation between Brian and this slender Madagascan man. "Seems like you picked up something sweet too," he said, raising an eyebrow. Brian just shook his head and got in the car.

"You have a lot of snacks," Herdo said to Emmett. "Are you going somewhere?"  
>"The airport," Emmett smiled. "Pittsburgh here we come." Then he disappeared into the car, just as Brian began to pull forward. Timed to perfection, both men thought and Emmett said, "I can't believe I'd ever be excited about travelling to Pittsburgh. Madagascar's great but it's almost a little too great all the time. Candy?" The packet appeared in front of Brian's face. He batted it out the way and started weaving the traffic towards the airport. "But sometimes," Emmett continued, "too much of a wonderful thing can become a bit tedious. Do you know what I mean?"<br>"I have a pretty good idea," Brian deadpanned, but Emmett continued with his analogy.

"Take bubbles for instance," he said, "bubbles are fun but if I was constantly being hit in the face with them, I think they'd lose their charm quickly."

"Probably," Brian nodded.

"But we're going home now."

"Pop," was Brian's only response.

"Back to Pittsburgh, rushing off to save the love of your life."  
>"Pop."<br>"It's a fairytale really."  
>"Pop."<br>"A twisted, hate-ridden, crime-centric fairytale."  
>"Pop."<br>"Why do you keep popping?" Emmett demanded, throwing another sweet into his mouth and glaring at Brian.

"Every sentence you say is like another bubble hitting me in the face."  
>"Asshole," Emmett cried, punching Brian on the shoulder.<p>

The unexpected impact made Brian swerve violently, careering towards a ditch at the edge of the road and only managing to correct at the last second.

"Fuck," Emmett breathed but Brian didn't even slam the breaks on, he just got back onto the road and began weaving again and after a few moments, he muttered,

"bother me again Honeycutt and I will leave you on the sidewalk without stopping."

"Understood," Emmett nodded, miming locking up his mouth and throwing away the key. Brian was annoyed at the other man's childishness, not even Justin was this bad but he couldn't help smirk when, out of the corner of his eye, he could see Emmett attempting to eat a sweet without opening his mouth and when the other man started hunting for the missing imaginary key, Brian actually chuckled a little.

::

Justin had woken up long before his alarm and despite trying, he couldn't force himself to go back to sleep. He used to love waking up early in Madagascar. He'd usually roll over and wake Brian up with a morning blowjob or simply by whispering some of his best used Spanish phrases into his ear. The randy fucker always heard anything that might lead to a fuck. 'Put the kettle on,' that was a different story but Justin certainly wasn't in need of a coffee right now.

He got out of bed and pulled on his clothes. He'd already made the decision to go to college today. He'd already made the decision to seek out the LGBT club and find the hottest guy to fuck. He'd already made the decision that he'd fuck him a few times because then he'd be free from Brian or at least he'd be over him on some level. As it was, Justin couldn't even jack off in the shower without thinking about the man and he couldn't stand it anymore. He needed some kind of sexual memory without Brian … or some pervert who wanted to 'pretend-rape' him in the back of hisfilthy, ugly, fucking van … or fucking-van.

Justin smiled a little at his own joke and looked at the clock. It was still way too early to go in to school unless … well, it would probably take him about an hour to walk it. He could leave now and be on his own for a while. Perfect.

He rushed downstairs where the drawn curtains coupled with the low sunlight outside, gave the place a slightly creepy feel. He pulled them open but it didn't make much difference. The day was grey, the weather was grey, the clouds and rain were grey, the sidewalk, the sky; Justin sighed, it was like a visual metaphor for his sad, pathetic life.

He grabbed some toast, pulled on a coat and ventured to school**.** Trudging through the damp weather, standing in a puddle and soaking his foot, none of it seemed to faze him. He'd managed to completely detach himself from everything around him. Perhaps that's why he didn't hear Ethan calling until he was right next to him and perhaps that's why when he did hear him, he turned straight round and punched him in the face.

Ethan sprawled backwards, holding his nose which was pouring blood all down his face.

"Shit," Justin hissed, fumbling in his bag for a tissue or something similar. "Are you okay?" He asked, finally giving up on his search as it was obvious there was nothing he could give the other boy.

"I'm fine," Ethan insisted in a nasally voice and Justin couldn't help smile at how funny he sounded.

"What?" He asked indignantly and Justin laughed even harder. "Are you laughing at my voice?"

Justin was practically hysterical by this point. It wasn't that funny, not really, but Justin felt like he hadn't laughed in so long and this was the sweet relief he needed from all the doom and gloom he'd been experiencing recently.

He apologised through bursts of laughter. "Here, move your hands." Justin took the other boys hands and removed them from his face. Justin noted there wasn't as much blood as he'd first thought and his nose was still the right shape.

"I don't think it's broken," he said seriously. "You'll live."

"Excellent news," Ethan nodded happily. Then; "how about my ability to play violin, will that be affected?"  
>"No, you'll still be able to play beautifully."<p>

Ethan pulled a slightly smug expression. "Even better," he whispered. He was hyper-aware that Justin was yet to let go of his hands and he looked down suddenly. Justin looked down too and jumped away sheepishly.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"I don't mind," Ethan replied quietly. "So what were you thinking so hard about that you ended up punching me in the face?"

"It's stupid," Justin shook his head, as they began to walk to school together, the sun was just coming up now but Justin didn't think to question the reason Ethan was there. He didn't really question the reason that Ethan was everywhere he was. He'd always assumed it was just a series of crazy coincidences or, he supposed, fate?

"I won't think so," the other boy replied. There was an honest quality to his voice a shiny innocence in his eyes. He was so unlike Brian in so many ways and Justin knew that that was probably a good thing.

"Well…." Justin looked at the floor, splodgesof chewing gum, shimmers of litter and the odd crack, it could have been any sidewalk in Pittsburgh, even the world. "I was just trying not to think."  
>"About?"<br>"Anything."

"That's not stupid," Ethan said honestly. "I'd give anything to turn off my brain sometimes. Sometimes I feel like it's an annoying talk radio that I just can't shut off. But, usually, I find it's better than listening to someone else's false sympathy."

"That's exactly how I feel," Justin said, smiling warmly at the other boy. Had he finally found someone that could understand? "But it's not the sympathy I'm sick of," Justin sighed, "it's the fact everyone thinks they know me. They followed a couple of news stories about ages ago and now they think they know everything about me. The news stories weren't even right most of the time but now they see me as this guy who wants to be kidnapped or … something."

"Who would think that?" Ethan asked, his face screwed up in disgust.

"This guy," Justin said, scuffing his shoes a little and then, for no reason that he could explain he began to detail the whole sordid incident in Babylon.

"He actually thought that?" Ethan asked disgustedly, when Justin had finished his explanation.  
>"Does that mean you <em>don't<em> think I'm like that?"  
>"Of course not," Ethan exclaimed. "I don't presume to know anything about you Justin Taylor but that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to know everything about you."<p>

Justin blushed a little before beaming at the other boy. He felt genuinely happy and it had been a long time since he'd felt like that. Maybe Ethan was the guy he needed, maybe he was going to be his saviour from the endless thoughts of Brian so, driven by a crazy impulse that he hadn't felt in a long time he said,

"let's ditch school."

"What?" Ethan asked, his eyes bright and excited.

"Come on, we'll go into town and just hang out. I'll tell you everything you wanna know about me … on one condition."  
>"Which is?"<p>

"You tell me everything there is to know about you."  
>"Done," Ethan grinned and the two boys turned around and started walking in the other direction. At exactly the same time, the sun rose above the house and lit up the sidewalk in a beautiful golden hue and Justin felt like it was a metaphor that his life was finally taking a turn for the better.<p>

* * *

><p>"Paris!" Brian yelled, drawing the attention of the entire airport.<p>

"I am very sorry, sir, but that's the only way you can fly into Pittsburgh."

"What about anywhere in the US?"  
>The woman behind the counter, whose name tag read 'Manon', began to search her computer but Brian knew it was useless. He didn't even need Emmett to remind him that all flights to the US had a layover in Paris or that he should be grateful that this particular stop was only thirty minutes.<p>

"We'll take the flight to Pittsburgh," Emmett said, pushing Brian out of the way to save anyone getting shot, when Manon was forced to tell Brian that there were no other flights to America at this time.

"Okay, sir," the woman agreed and Emmett paid quickly before dragging Brian off to sit down.

"This is shit," Brian growled.

"Uh-huh," Emmett agreed readily. He did not need a Brian Kinney tantrum now. The airport would probably be blown apart in seconds. "We need to dump our guns," he said quietly.

"I'll do it at passport control," Brian said.

"You better, we do not need to be arrested at this end."

"Alright, Honeycutt," Brian snapped, "I'm not an idiot."

"Right," Emmett just nodded and then he sat in silence. This was going to be the longest day of his life.

::

"So he's fine?" Debbie confirmed down the receiver.

"Yes," Jen answered, "What would make you think he wasn't?"

"He didn't answer his cell."

"Oh, that stupid thing. When he got in last night, the screen was smashed to pieces, he said he didn't know how it happened but I could tell that…." She sobbed suddenly. "Oh Deb, he just doesn't tell me anything anymore."

"That's teenager boys for you," Debbie sighed. "I should know, with Michael and Brian, I ended up raising two of them."

"But what if it's important? What if it's drugs? Brian wouldn't have introduced him to that would he?"  
>Debbie thought about the amount of weed and poppers Brian consumed but she lied expertly. "No, for all Brian's faults, crack head isn't one of them."<p>

"Then, what?"  
>"It's probably nothing," Debbie said. Now that she knew Justin hadn't been kidnapped, she was sure Justin was just acting like a typical moody kid. "Heartbreak if anything. He'll be fine, I promise."<p>

"I'm sure you're right," Jen agreed.

"Anyway, it was nice speaking to you and you keep an eye on that son of yours, there's a few guys here who won't be happy if he's not that ray of sunshine when we next see him."

"Right, yes, of course."  
>"Bye now."<p>

Debbie hung up and turned to Ted with eyes of fury.

"Do you know what you are Theodore Donald Schmidt?" And before he had time to answer, "a scare-monger."

"So he's fine," Ted deduced.

"Yes you idiot, he's fine."

"Ted is not only to blame," Ignacio said quickly. "Brian; he has a hot head, very impulsivo. He would not be stopped, even if now he heard that Justin is okay."

"That's true," Ted said, partially because it was true and partially because he wanted to defer Debbie's anger away from him.

"True or not, you're still an idiot."

"That is true also," Ignacio chuckled as the cooker bleeped. "Ah lunch," he beamed. "You will love this, I promise. It was our fastest selling dish in the restaurant."

"What is it again?"

"Tacos de Matamoros with carne de vaca y especias mejicanas. And ensalada pan de maíz."  
>Debbie just looked at the man before saying, "all I heard was mumbo-jumbo."<br>"It's tacos and a cornbread salad," Ted smirked.

"You are such a killer of joy, Ted Schmidt," Ignacio complained.

"Killjoy," the other man corrected, with a smirk.

"Whatever," Ignacio frowned. "You took joy and you killed it with your cinismo."

"I don't know what that means," Ted sighed.

"Just know that you are it and it is bad," Ignacio informed him haughtily, serving the meal onto plates and handing them to their ungrateful owners.

::

Justin was laughing so hard his sides were hurting. He hadn't felt this deliriously happy in such a long time. He felt somehow light and giddy as though he could float away and as he looked over to Ethan, he felt sure the other guy felt the same.

"Look," Ethan said suddenly serious, "tell me if I'm out of line or whatever because I know you have a boyfriend…."  
>"<em>Had,<em>" Justin interrupted quickly. "I _had_ a boyfriend."

"… but I just want you to know that … I really like you. I like your laugh and your smile. I like your strength of mind and body," he smirked and Justin flushed a little. "What I'm saying is … I don't want to push you into anything because, I really want us to be together."

Justin just stared at the boy ahead of him, beautiful caring eyes, decent body, wonderful soul, the kind of soul his soul could join with forever. And if not, Ethan was hot enough to fuck whilst his soul found someone else but Justin didn't want to wait any longer for someone else. He was tired of waiting. He wanted everything Ethan had to offer and he wanted it right now.

"You live in halls, right?" He asked. He checked his watch. It was almost diner time, they'd been talking in the coffee shop for ages.

Ethan nodded, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Then let's go back to yours. Go on," Justin practically begged, leaning over to Ethan's ear, "vamos a follar."

"Nice," Ethan beamed back.

"You speak Spanish?" Justin asked, certain that this guy was getting better and better.

"My uncle's Mexican," Ethan smiled. "He doesn't like speaking English so I had to learn. And can I say, I like the way you talk Spanish."

Justin had never heard of 'let's fuck' not working on any self-respecting gay man. At least Brian had always suggested that being upfront about your desires usually got you where you wanted to be, namely buried in some guys ass. Justin could have kicked himself for thinking about Brian at a time like this. Ethan was so unlike Brian and that was made all the more obvious, when he asked solemnly,

"Are you 100% sure?"  
>"More sure than that," Justin nodded and he hoped he was portraying honesty with his eyes because, although most of him wanted this, there was one part of him, probably his heart, that was screaming at him to turn back. It was a shame that Justin Taylor had always been headstrong.<p>

He took Ethan's hand and the two began to walk, Justin could have had no idea that they were walking in completely the opposite direction of the college halls.

::

"Seven hours down, eight hours to go," Emmett sang happily as they sat in a plane on the runway in France, waiting for take-off. "This is fun, isn't it Brian?" He said, looking over to the other man who was sitting with a face like thunder staring at the seat in front.

"Do you know," he seethed, "how long it has been since I sat in coach?"

Emmett shook his head anxiously.

"Never," Brian practically exploded.

"Snob," Emmett muttered under his breath.

"I can't even stretch my fucking legs out."

"If they're such a problem, I'll be happy to saw them off for you."

Brian turned to Emmett and with a strained smile he said, "I don't think I've ever wanted my gun more."

And in the same tone, Emmett replied, "aren't you a sweetie?"

Brian just turned away from the other man, because his brain was coming up with a million and one other ways to kill Miss Honeycutt without a gun. Maybe he could choke him to death with the tethers of the life jackets or smack his head on the seat in front until his brains were visible. These images cheered Brian up and he actually smiled.

Ten hours of hell and then he'd be in Pittsburgh and he'd finally be able to find Justin, maybe Michael and take them all back to Madagascar and they'd be safe, truly safe … or at least until Alfredo found them. He chewed his thumbnail anxiously. Alfredo was not going to be put off by a sixteen hour flight with a layover in Paris. He managed to stop himself making any shitty layover jokes, beside, Emmett had just about exhausted them and they'd only been there fifteen minutes. He shivered a little and Emmett asked him if he was alright. He lied and said he was fine.

The film was Ducoboo, some shitty French flick about a badly behaved child. Emmett managed to enjoy it despite being unable to speak a word of French, he just laughed along with the other passengers and Brian silently plotted more ways to kill them.

"So," Emmett said, about two hours into their flight, "Alfredo…."

That was it. No question, no statement, just his name, as though he expected Brian to volunteer the monster's life history. No thanks … or should that be 'non merci'. The silence dragged on; Emmett waiting expectantly for an embellished story, Brian dead set on not giving the other man what he wanted.

"Well?" Emmett encouraged after it was clear Brian wasn't going to speak.

"Well what?" He asked, disinterestedly.

"Oh don't play the 'I couldn't give a fuck' card. Alfredo scares the shit out of you and I wanna know why."

Brian was silent for a moment, a long moment, a very long moment and then he began to speak.

"Just after college, Theodore, Marv, Mikey and I took a year out. We went to Mexico, I spoke Spanish, Marv was pretty good and Ted could get by. We all had to help Mikey out but that'd been the story of my life, so I didn't mind. Anyway, when we got there, we got conned, just like that. This guy did some scam involving a hire car we wanted. I was livid, chased after him and pulled a knife on him … he pulled a gun on me."  
>"Sounds like how Justin and me met."<p>

"Uh-huh, except, well … this guy, I can't even remember his name now, he sort of rounded us up and took us to Alfredo."

"Rounded you up?"  
>"Literally. He pointed a gun and we all got in this van. When we got there, it was this giant mansion, almost a small hotel and there were about sixteen people there all working for Alfredo. It wasn't even like he was running some big drugs scam, he had everyone out doing little jobs for him; quick bank job, rob a department store anything he fancied. He used to send us out in groups, fulfilling little tasks for him, the better you did, the more he paid you."<br>"Like an evil Donald Trump," Emmett interrupted.

"Well, like Donald Trump," Brian smirked.

"That's true, I'm not sure anything in the world is more evil than that toupee," Emmett shuddered dramatically. "So," he encouraged, when he'd stopped living in the horror that was Donald Trump's wig, "he took you all on?"  
>"Kind of," Brian nodded. "He liked me and Ted. He could use us, I was street smart, Ted was smart-smart and wherever I went, Michael went. But Marv," Brian shook his head, "Alfredo didn't see the point in him. To be fair, Alfredo had a point, Marv was a useless fat-fuck but it was his loyalty that I always valued over everything else and even Alfredo recognised it. He gave him a job cleaning."<p>

"What about Ignacio?"

"I'm getting to it," Brian scowled. "So, there're rumours around the hotel for crime that Alfredo's got this boyfriend that's never been seen. I was fucking one of his personal body guards and he told me all about it. Alfredo had this guy, who he'd kidnapped from some rich fucking family somewhere in Mexico City. He'd intended to go down the whole ransom route, like always. The police knew him well, he'd steal young boys of about fifteen from rich families, charge a ransom fuck them a few times and give them back, if he was feeling generous."  
>"And if not?"<br>"He'd burn them alive, and post a video to the family with a single owl feather attached."  
>"That's horrific," Emmett gasped. "Why would anyone do that?"<br>"It's a fucking game to him," Brian growled. "It's how he gets his thrills, it's why he keeps living from day to day."  
>"And you knew about this?"<br>"No, Ignacio told us all about it after we left."

"How did Ignacio know?"

"He was one of the kidnapped kids. Dragged out of bed in the dead of night to be Alfredo's new little play thing but then Alfredo discovered Ignacio had cataplexy. He didn't even inform the parents he'd kidnapped him. He was never intending to give him back I mean, fuck, Ignacio was the perfect fucking victim." Brian was clenching his fists around the arms of his seats, his teeth gritted, pure hatred pouring from every pore. "Alfredo goes near him, he gets scared, he has a fit and is paralysed, no running, no screaming, no nothing but you still know, when you look into his eyes, you know that he's aware of what's happening."

"And Alfredo just kept him?"  
>"Like a sex slave, a prisoner in his own fucking body," Brian spat. "It was so easy too, if Ignacio ever decided to leave, someone would just point a gun at him or shout his name and run towards him and he'd be all limp again and carried back to the bedroom. Somehow, Marv got trusted with cleaning Alfredo's bedroom one day and he found Ignacio and they fell in love or something." Brian's face screwed up as though he hadn't spent the last year of his life claiming he was in love with Justin. "We managed to smuggle him out after months of planning. It was like The Great Escape."<br>"What?"  
>"Chicken Run," Brian translated. He forgot that when it came to culture, Emmett was at the level of a permanent five year old.<p>

"We got him back to the states and went into hiding, those two at the restaurant and me, Mikey and Ted went to Deb's. I guess, we've been hiding ever since. In fact, we've been hiding so fucking long, we forgot. I suppose when my face started making headline news every night, he found us. In fact, Ted's got some pretty good evidence that he caused the deaths of Stockwell and Rikert."  
>"I didn't even know they were dead," Emmett said, slouching back in the chair, well as slouched as it's possible to be in seat with a ruler-straight backrest.<p>

"No one does," Brian sighed. He was too worked up to do anything now. He couldn't relax. He needed to pace or scream. So he stood up and went to the toilet. He walked the full length of the plane to the toilet's way up by the cockpit and on the way was offered a cock-pitting by one of the stewards but Brian refused, partially because Justin was all he could think about and partially because however pun-like cock-pitting was meant to be, it actually just sounded painful.

::

The rest of the flight was fairly uneventful and apart from the relatively frequent flirtations about 'nuts' between Emmett and 90% of the male cabin crew, nothing else happened. Brian tried to sleep, but his brain was still fizzing and popping with new thoughts and fears. When he was at his best, Brian Kinney's brain roared like the well-oiled engine of his trusty corvette but now, his brain was a hissing smoky mess. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't even close his eyes.

::

They landed in Pittsburgh safely but no sooner at the doors opened, there was a tanoy announcement.

"Bon soir, Madame et Monsieur. C'est votre parole capitaine…." The voice continued to speak and whilst Emmett strained his ear for words that might sound vaguely familiar, Brian looked around at the reaction of the passengers. With every word they looked more and more fearful and Brian had a horrible feeling that, he didn't need a French-speaker to translate the looks on this faces.

"Emmett," he muttered in his friend's ear. "I think we have to run."  
>"Shhh, I'm listening. Is he telling us to go to the back of the plane and get our bags?"<br>"Em, RUN!" Brian yelled, diving out of the seat and dragging the other man along with him. In his heart he knew this last dash was just for show. They were on a fucking plane and there was nowhere to go. The police were advancing from both sides and unless Emmett had suddenly developed the power of flight, they were completely trapped. But inevitability had never put Brian off before, so he still ran headlong into the police, pushing them aside and trying to make it to the door. It was futile, he barely made it past two of them, before he felt his arms being wrenched behind him and cuffs being slapped on.

He struggled against his restraints, growling and spitting like a rabid animal.

"How did you know?" He hissed at the policeman in charge of moving him. "How could you know we were here?"

"Tip off," the guy replied, before hitting him around the head with the handle of his gun. Brian hissed at the pain but it didn't hurt as much as it should have. He was too angry to notice anything. "Not another word from you," the cop said firmly. "Or you," he directed at Emmett who was in the same predicament, though he was struggling less, he probably didn't need the extra pain of cuff-sliced wrists. Brian didn't seem to care at this moment.

They were dragged through the airport and people kept getting out their phones and taking photos and video. Fucking brilliant. Youtube here we come, Brian thought. He could here Emmett jabbering wildly at his side.

"Carl Horvath," he was saying over and over. "C-A-R-L … H-O-R, er, vath. That's who I want to speak to. Why aren't you noting this down?"

"You're wasting your time," Brian muttered under his breath.

"Look, whatever he said, Horvath still owes us," Emmett insisted. "That's _CARL _Horvath," he repeated louder to the man holding him.

"If you don't shut the fuck up, I will shoot you in knee cap," the man snapped in his ear.

"Well, there's nothing like the threat of excruciating pain to shut someone up," Emmett huffed as they were taken outside and thrown into a large white van. "What kind of cop are you?" And then it dawned on him, "you're not a cop at all. Fuck! HELP!"

The sound of the gun shot was sickening, but not as sickening as the sound of shattering bone and the tiny lump of metal hurtled through Emmett's foot at 700 miles an hour. His scream was like nothing on earth and Brian winced as the noise of it ricocheted of the insides of the now shut van. But Emmett refused to be silenced,

"That's my foot you fucker," he screamed pointlessly, gasping for breath and writhing from the excruciating pain. "Didn't anyone ever teach you the difference between a foot and fucking knee?"  
>"Are you trying to get us killed?" Brian snapped, sitting himself up awkwardly and moving to inspect the damage. He stared down and a bloody, pulpy mess protruding from the middle of the silver shoe. "I don't think it's going to make it," Brian said seriously.<p>

"My foot," Emmett hissed. His eyes were closed, his face scrunched up. He was clearly in agony but that didn't stop Brian replying;

"the winkle-picker."

"You asshole," Emmett seethed but Brian just said,

"you won't die. Not from this injury anyway."

"Great," Emmett scorned. "Tell me something," he hissed, wriggling into a seated position, "why is it that every time I'm with you, I get shot?"  
>"Your clumsy?" Brian chuckled mirthlessly.<p>

Emmett smiled a little, though nothing was funny. In fact, nothing in Emmett's entire life had been quite this serious.

"I just wanna say," Emmett said quietly. "If this gets fucked up and I don't make it."

"You'll be fine," Brian promised angrily and he believed it. Alfredo was a sick, twisted but he didn't usually kill men like Emmett for no reason. He saved that for spoilt rich kids.

"Let me say this," Emmett insisted, "I'm glad I met you Brian Kinney." He smiled as memories flooded his mind, "since I've known you, I've been shot three times, nearly arrested more times than I can remember had the lowest lows and the highest of highs. I got to have the family I never had when I was young."  
>"Honeycutt, stop talking like it's the end."<p>

"Okay," the other man conceded, "but just in case, I love you, Bri."

Brian didn't respond. He almost acted like he hadn't even heard it and Emmett thought that was going to be it, and then, Brian mumbled, "your pathetic, Honeycutt."

But Emmett heard it for what it was. It was the Brian Kinney way of saying 'I love you too.'

Suddenly the van screeched to a halt and the rustling of movement outside made them more alert.

"Showtime," Brian muttered as the van doors were opened and they were dragged out.

* * *

><p><strong>MASSIVE thank you to everyone who's reading!<strong>

**EVEN MORE MASSIVE thank you to Albiku and Boriqua for all your beta-ing wonderfulness!**

**I.B...xx**


	8. Chapter 8

**Really nervous about this chapter! It's sooooooo dark!**

**Anyhoo, thanks to my wonderful betas Albiku and Boriqua522! I love you both dearly!**

* * *

><p>Ignacio was watching TV, Ted was at his computers, Deb was making endless dead end calls to Michael; it was just another lazy afternoon at Brian's Madagascan island. Well, it should have been lazy, except Ted was more fidgety and alert than usual, checking the clock every five minutes and checking for voicemail every two.<p>

"Relájese," Ignacio said contentedly. "Relax. You will give yourself problems of the heart."

"They should have landed by now," Ted answered, getting up to check the phone.

"Maybe they are in a queue."

"What? Just any queue?"

"Okay, amargado," Ignacio held up his hands in surrender. Then he muttered, "someone has got up with their left foot first."

"Sometimes you make no sense."

"It means you are moody."

"I'm just concerned, that's all," Ted sighed, then watching Debbie slam down the phone in frustration, he asked, "why don't you try Horvath?"

"What are you talking about?" She asked, but she looked like a shifty child who'd been caught out of bed after dark.

"Instead of calling Michael, call Horvath."

"Oh, I…." Debbie trailed off, shaking her head. She never wanted to speak to the man again. It had been a nice idea that they should go out for a date and they'd enjoyed each other's company for a long time but eventually, the day had come when they both had to admit they were just too different. Carl would relay the events of the day, how he'd caught some shop lifter or fraudster and Debbie would just sigh and point out that if she'd been there, the thief would have got away with it.

"He's the only person who might know," Ted said firmly and Debbie had to admit, he was right. Tentatively, she tapped in Carl's number and held the receiver to her ear. It rang for a moment or two and then, he answered.

"Detective Horvath speaking."

Debbie just stared ahead. It was as though she'd forgotten what to do when someone actually answered the phone.

"Say hola," Ignacio reminded her.

"Hola, er, I mean hello. I mean … Carl?"

"Speaking." She could hear the frown in his tone. She could almost imagine the wrinkles in his confused little face.

"It's, er, it's Debbie … Novotny."

"Debbie," Carl sounded happier immediately. "Where are you? I've been trying to get in contact."  
>"You have?"<p>

"Yes, I don't know if you were aware but your son Michael was taken from his prison cell a few weeks ago."

"I was aware," Debbie answered quickly.

"Of course," Carl chuckled knowingly, "Ted. So did Ted also tell you he'd been found."

"Found?" Debbie asked. It was as though the sun was rising, the rain had gone, all the weight had gone, the curtains were drawn and every other uplifting thing from nature were all happening at once.

"Outside the warehouse. The other guy died in the blaze but we managed to get Michael out. I tried to contact you but I didn't have a number. Ben's been with him … and Hunter. He has some burns and the smokes done some damage to his lungs but he's okay."

Debbie just broke down. Michael was okay. Her worst fears hadn't been realised, her son had survived whatever horrific ordeal he'd been put through

"Can I…." She sobbed, taking a tissue that Ignacio handed her. "Can I speak to him?"

"He's at his home now, they got a new number under police protection. Are you gonna stay on this line?"

"Yeah," Debbie sniffed.

"I'll get him to call you now."

"Thank you," Debbie cried over and over. "Thank you, thank you."

She put down the receiver and crumpled into a heap on the nearest chair. "He's okay," she whispered. "He's okay. He was caught in the fire at the warehouse but… he survived."

"He was the other man," Ignacio whispered suddenly from the sofa.

"What?"

"When they…." Ted could see the other man fighting hard as his left eye began to droop, "well, you know," he said quickly, shaking himself a little. "There was someone elsh," his words were being affected.

"Ignacio," Ted said firmly, moving quickly to his friend. "Listen to me. You're okay. Erm, eres okay. There's nothing to be scared of. No hay nada que espantado. No, that's wrong. Temer. No hay nada que temer. Stay calm."

"There wash shomeone elsh," Ignacio tried again. His eyes drooped as he struggled against his condition. He was clawing a little at his wrists, but his ability to do anything was quickly seeping away. "He had the máscara … a bag. I could not shee his fashe."

"They put Michael in a mask," Ted pondered aloud. "I suppose that's psychological."

Suddenly the phone rang and Debbie sprang for it.

"Michael! Honey. Oh baby."

"Yeah, ma," he heard the voice reply, "it's me."

"Oh thank you God, Buddha, Allah and whoever else is up there," she cried, her eyes pointed to the ceiling. "Michael, how are you?"

"I'm okay," he answered and Debbie let out a heavy sigh of relief because she would have known if Michael was lying. "A few battle scars but I'm alright."

"Oh baby, that must have been horrible."

"It was worse for Ignacio. Is Brian there? I have to tell him about Marv."

"He already knows," Debbie replied quietly. "Ignacio arrived here."

"How's he doing?"

"He's suffering," Debbie answered honestly, watching Ted try and bring the younger man back around.

"Alfredo's sick," Michael said angrily. "He didn't tie Ignacio up or anything. He just sat him in a chair and then revealed Marv before starting the fire. Of course, Ignacio fucking panics and next second he's limp, totally aware of what's happening, knowing that if only he could break the cataplexy, he could save him." He took a breath and Debbie could hear him swallowing away the tears and emotion. "You know Marv didn't say a word. He knew that Ignacio would be able to hear him if he screamed, so he was silent to spare him that memory. Except, well, right at the end, he said 'take ammo' or something. It didn't make sense."

"It was probably Te amo, Michael," Debbie swallowed thickly and looked over to Ignacio. This Alfredo seriously needed to pay for what he'd done and just as she was exacting her imaginary revenge, the door was kicked open and a gunshot rang through the house.

"MA!" Michael screamed but he was talking to nothing, because Deb had already leapt into action.

::

Anja stood in the doorway, Ted clutched in front of her like a human shield, her gun pointed at the ceiling, where there was a little bullet hole there that was spilling dust to the floor.

"One more move," she whispered "and I do that to his face."

"Your English has come along," Ted snapped.

"Fuck you," she muttered, jabbing the barrel of the gun into the fleshy underside of Ted's chin. And to Debbie, "drop your gun."

"I don't think so," the other woman snarled. Anja cocked her own gun and raised an eyebrow.

"I say it again … you drop your gun."

Debbie seemed to consider her for a long time and just as it looked like she was going to drop the gun, she shot.

Ted flinched. He was hit. Wasn't he? He could feel warm blood seeping through the right sleeve of his shirt. He opened his eyes, Anja's corpse had fallen right on him.

"Ugh," he jumped and she fell to the floor, a pool of blood forming at her head.

"Right between the eyes," Debbie gloated, twirling her weapon around her finger like a pro. She made a gun noise. "Let no one say that Debbie Novonty is out of practice."

And then something pressed into her neck and a quick surge of electricity sent her sinking to the floor.

"Debbie Novotny is out of practice," the culprit smirked.

"Seriously?" Ted asked, looking at Herdo in disgust. "Your big moment, you've captured us and _that _is the cheesy line you used."

"Your words are useless," Herdo sighed disinterestedly, pointing his weapon, an old-fashioned taser, at the older man. "Come, come."

And knowing they were fucked whatever he did, Ted just put his hands in the air and allowed Herdo to taser him too.

* * *

><p>"Haven't you people ever heard of detergent?"<p>

Those were the words Brian could hear as he regained consciousness. It was odd. He didn't really remember losing consciousness but he supposed it was probably like falling asleep, if you were the kind of person that fell asleep by being whacked hard on the back of the head. Anyway, it was hard to realise you were conscious when your head is covered in a bag that smelt like a small, dead animal.

He heard a stamping foot and Emmett cry in agony.

"Fucker," Emmett hissed and Brian was under no illusions that whoever their captor was, he had just stamped on Emmett's mauled foot.

"Shut up Honeycutt," he muttered and suddenly, the bag was ripped from his head and he was blinking against the artificial light.

"Ah … Brian," an all too familiar voice called brightly and Brian felt sick. He looked up into the glassy green eyes of Alfredo. The man looked happy, really happy, like he was having the best fun of his life and Brian wasn't really surprised. This would be just the sort of thing he'd find fun. "_Finally_," he continued in Spanish, though he'd speaking English for the sake of unilingual idiota-Americano until this point, "_you__'__ve __come __to __join __the __party.__I __was __getting __sick __of __this __one_," he gestured disgustedly towards Emmett, "_droning on and on about his fucking foot. Look_," he said excitedly. "_Watch, __watch_." He turned expectantly to his thug of a companion, who was stood next to Emmett. The thug didn't catch on to whatever Alfredo was insinuating and that seemed to put a slight dampener on his happy attitude.

"You just can't get the staff," Alfredo sighed, switching his languages easily, to let everyone in on his big joke.

Brian shut his eyes when Alfredo lifted his own big boot. He shut his ears to Emmett pleading with him not too but he couldn't shut out the cry as Alfredo's foot crushed Emmett's to the floor. And worse still, he couldn't block out the maniacal laughter that followed. The fucker was enjoying every second.

Brian looked over to Emmett who was doubled up as much as his restraints would allow, howling with pain. Brian couldn't help feel guilty. If it hadn't been for Brian insisted on taking Justin from his home that night, Alfredo would never have found them. Emmett wouldn't have been shot, Marv wouldn't have been killed. Michael wouldn't be … wherever the fuck Michael was. They'd still be nameless, faceless nobodies carrying out small-time thefts and robberies without a care in the world apart from how burnt Debbie's meal of choice would be. But here they were, in a large warehouse, with horribly bright lights, which illuminated everything in bright white; like heaven … or hell.

"_He __is __a __whiney, __whiney __boy_," Alfredo laughed, poking Emmett's injured foot with his own shoe. "_Speaking __of __wine_," he cried, clapping his hands and twirling flamboyantly like this was a fucking Christmas show. "Bring out the wine," he shouted in English to his bodyguards "Our guests need to join the celebrations."

"I don't drink wine," Brian grumbled, when a plastic cup of red liquid was pushed to his lips.

"Oh Bri-aaaaan." Alfredo stamped his foot petulantly. "_You__'__re __ruining __the __party __sensation. __I __worked __hard __at __this. __I __was __just __offended __you __didn__'__t __reply __to __any __of __my __invites_."

"What invites?" Brian refused to bow to Alfredo's wishes and speak to him in his native tongue.  
>"Rikert, Stockwell … Marv," he laughed sinisterly. "<em>That <em>_was __just __my __little __way __of __inviting __you __to __play. __And __what __do __you __do? __Nothing. __Not __even __a__ '__thanks __but __no __thanks__'_."

Brian just sat, staring ahead sternly. His lips still pressed tightly together refusing the cup of wine.

"Away." Alfredo flapped at the crony who was holding the cup to Brian's face. He retreated quickly.

It was quiet now. Everyone was waiting for Alfredo's next move. They all expected different things. The guard at the fire door expected him to put a funnel in Brian's mouth and force him to drink. The guard at the front entrance was expecting Alfredo to do something with a grenade or another kind of firearm. The guard standing at Emmett's side was expecting Alfredo to come up with another way of inflicting pain to Emmett's wound. Brian wasn't expecting any of these things. He knew Alfredo too well. He'd been Alfredo's right-hand-man's right-hand-man for long enough to know that at this point in the game, Alfredo liked to show off and tell everyone just how clever he'd been. Brian had once joked that Alfredo's victims would see death as a kindness after his long, boring monologues but now, he hoped Alfredo would talk forever.

Alfredo took a wooden, garden chair, similar to the ones he'd tied his captives to, and positioned it directly in front of Brian, before sitting down heavily.

"Brian, Brian, Brian," he mused, shaking his head a little and considering his prey carefully. After a few moments of silent consideration, Alfredo spoke, Spanish because he hated the ugliness of the English tongue. "_We __used __to __be __friends,__didn__'__t __we_?"

"No_._" Brian replied bluntly. His voice was so low that Alfredo had to strain his ears to hear him. Well, he wasn't having that.

"_Speak __Spanish,_" he snapped. "_Or __I__'__ll __have __your __voice__box __ripped __from __your __throat._"

"_Sentences __like __that __are __just __a __few __of __the __reasons __we__'__re __not __friends_," Brian hissed. Emmett felt like he didn't need to understand the words used, Brian's expression of hatred said it all. He was equally terrified of and sickened by the man. Emmett had never seen Brian injure another human being before but he was pretty sure that this Alfredo would be the exception.

"_Ah. __I __must __make __a __note __of __these __things_," Alfredo said happily, before turning to the man closest to Emmett and relaying, in English, his need for note of 'don't make threats' to be made. The man did as he was told immediately and Emmett was left wondering how many other completely bonkers orders he'd carried out for this loopy man. "_There,_" he turned back to Brian, Spanish resuming as his language of choice. "_That __buffoon __has __made __a __note __of __it. __Any thing __else __I __should __add __to __the __list?_"

"_How __about __that __you __kidnapped __Justin?_"

"_Justine? __What __makes __you __think __I __kidnapped __Justine_?"

"_I __don__'__t __think, __I __know. __And __call __him __Justin_."

"_Ah, __you__'__re __so __weak __with __love __but __you__'__re __also __wrong ...__ and blind. __I __didn__'__t __kidnap __Justin. __He __walked __here __all __by __himself. __I __mean, __I __laid __out __a __trail __of __breadcrumbs, __the __breadcrumbs __being __a __hot __boy __and __the __trail __being __a __promise __of __a __mind-blowing __fuck __but __he __still __walked __here __of __his __own __volition. __So __gullible, __so __easily __swayed __by __a __few __nice __words __and __a __sweet __smile._"

"_What __have __you __done __with __him_?"

"_Oh __yeah_," Alfredo mocked, "_because __I__'__m __going __to __tell __you __what __I__'__ve __done __with __your __precious __little __Justine__…_"

"_JUSTIN_!"

"… _and let you __ruin __all __my __fun. __I __don__'__t __think __so, __Kinney_."

"_Have __you __hurt __him_?"

Alfredo just chuckled, reaching forward and running his forefinger over Brian's lips. "_Shhh, __shhh, __shhh, __shhh,_" he hushed quietly. "_You__'__re __so __worried, __so __pathetic_," he smirked.

"_I __suppose __that__'__s __what __love __does __to __you. __It __makes __you __frail, __too __easy __to __crush. __I __know __it __happened __to __me __when __I __fell __in __love __with __Ignacio_."

Brian made a strange noise that was somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

"_Are __you __fucking __serious_?" He demanded. "_The __guy __is __terrified __of __you. __He __must __have __been __permanently __paralysed __when __you __were __around_." He smirked a little, staring straight into Alfredo's cold, green eyes. "_But __I __guess __that__'__s __how __you __like __them, __huh? __Didn__'__t __have __to __pin __him __down __like __you __did __with __the __others_?"

Alfredo suddenly pulled a gun from his jacket and pointed it right at Brian's skull. Emmett gasped at the sudden action but Brian didn't look worried … not yet.

"_Go __on_," Alfredo half-laughed, half-hissed. "_Bring __up __ancient __history_." And leaning forward, he whispered, "_I __dare __you_."

Brian gazed back defiantly. "_I __wouldn__'__t __call __Jason __Kemp __ancient __history_."

The stinging in Brian's cheek was a shock but not entirely unexpected. He hadn't known being slapped with the handle of a gun would hurt so much. It was still a slap though, he was still alive, so Alfredo obviously had more to say but not yet, not until Brian had finished.

"_I __knew __it __was __you_," he winced through the pain of his throbbing cheek. "_Come __on_," he smirked, "_charred __body__ … __you __said __it __yourself, __it__'__s __your __fucking __calling __card_."

"_You __knew_?" Alfredo shook his head in delighted disbelief. "_I __don__'__t __believe __you __for a __second. __Your __bullshitting, __it__'__s __what __your __good __at_."

"_I __knew_," Brian said more firmly. "_I __just __didn__'__t __want __to __believe __it. __I __tried __to __run__away __because __I__'__ve __never __been __one __for __allowing __innocent __men __to __take __the __fall __for __me_."

"_Ah, __Mr __Kinney, __you __love __it __when __innocent __men __fall __for __you_." He leant in close and whispered rapidly, "_I__'__d __even __go __as __far __as __to __say __you __thrived __on __it. __I __mean, __you __were __key, __in __the __end, __to __putting __Rikert __away_."

"_You __know __why __I __did __that_," Brian whispered.

"_Yes, __because __you__'__re __loyal __to __your __friends __to __the __point __of __idiocy. __You __put __an __innocent __man __in __prison, __so __that __you __and __your __friends __could __walk __free_."

"_You __say __it __like __you __think __I__'__d __feel __guilty, __I__'__m __still __on __the __wrong side __of __the __law, __Alfredo. __I__'__m __just on __the __right side __of __insanity._"

"_I __don__'__t __think __you __always __are_."

Brian didn't respond to that. He knew Alfredo was trying to get under his skin but he wouldn't allow it. He had to keep his hothead cool. He had to remain calm. So he just asked;

"_why __Rikert? __What __did __he __ever __do __to __you?__Except __make __bad __choices __of __friends. __You __one __side, __Stockwell __the __other; __he __was __fucked __from __the __beginning. __He __wasn__'__t __even __a __fag __but __you__'__re __sooooooo __fucking __professional_," Brian drawled the words like insults. "_The __police __didn__'__t __even __call __his __suicide __suspicious. __It __was __a __work __of __genius_," he sighed and he almost sounded impressed. "_But __you __already __know __that_."

Alfredo was twirling his gun around his finger mindlessly. Brian didn't know if it was acting or real but Alfredo was showing all the characteristics of boredom. This clearly wasn't the conversation he'd been intending to have when he finally caught up with Brian Kinney but he was still playing along, even if it was slow and laboured playing, like he'd rather be at home watching a documentary on rocks.

"_I __never __liked __Rikert_," Alfredo admitted eventually. He wasn't paying any attention to Brian anymore, he was just watching the handgun blur as it span around his finger. "_He __was __always __trying __to __convince __Stockwell __not __to __work __for __me. __It __was __so__ … __tiresome_." He looked up suddenly. "_But __I __didn__'__t __plan __it. __Not __like __this, __this __was __planned. __But __Rikert__ … __he __was __just __a __happy __accident. __Kemp __too __really, __though __I __suppose __his __fate __was __probably __sealed. __If __it __hadn__'__t __been __me, __it __would __have __been __somebody __else__ … __he __was __annoying __as __shit!__" _Alfredo exclaimed, as though he'd just remembered. "_He __was __the __guy __I __threatened __to __shoot __and __he __was __in __to __it. __Do __you __know __how __much __of __a __turn __off __that __is __for __someone __like __me_?" He looked around him, as though addressing a non-existent audience. "_When __I __threaten __someone, __I __want __them __to __be __scared_," and as an afterthought, he smirked, "_to __the __point __of __paralysis_."

"_You__'__re __sick_," Brian snarled.

"_Oh, __anger_," Alfredo clapped happily. "_I __like __anger __when __I __threaten __someone __too. __But __I __don__'__t __like_; 'oh that's so hot'," he said in his best impression of an American hustler. Emmett glanced up as the first bit of English was spoken and stared confusedly at Brian, who replied;

"I can honestly say that that is completely out of context and not at all how this conversation is going."

"_SPEAK __SPANISH_," Alfredo screamed, pointing his gun at Emmett and regaining the attention … as though he'd ever really lost it.

The two captives jumped a little but Brian just gritted his teeth.

"_Fine_," he said. "_Spanish, __see. __I__'__m __playing __your __stupid __fucking __game_."

Alfredo nodded contentedly and lowered the gun. This was ridiculous, Brian thought. He still had no idea what was going on and Alfredo could still snap at any second and burn them both to hell and he was sure it was coming. He was sure the flames were waiting for him. He just hoped someone was coming to save them. Maybe Ted could have found out something on his computer, maybe Debbie would break down the door at any second maybe Horvath's terrible police department might finally have done something right. He looked half-expectantly to the door; Nothing. There was just the guard with a machine gun bopping his head to some imaginary tune in his head.

More time, Brian thought seriously. He needed to buy more time.  
>"<em>So <em>_come __on_," he taunted, "_Jason __Kemp, __apart __from __being __annoying, __what __did __he __do_?"

"_He __found __out __my __name_."

"_That__'__s __careless__ … __for __you_."

"_It __was __Rikert__'__s __fault. __Stockwell __had __convinced __Rikert __to __let __me __stay __at __his __house. Stockwell __didn__'__t __want __to __ruin __his __reputation __as __possible __future __mayor __so __I __couldn__'__t __stay __with __him. __I __went __out __and __found __Jason __and __halfway __through, __Rikert __opens __the __door. __He __shouted _'Alfredo, what are you doing?'."

Emmett looked up again and muttered, "I think everyone's asking that question."

And just like that, Alfredo blew a hole in Emmett's other foot. Emmett struggled and screamed so much that his chair toppled backwards. The sound of Emmett's skull smacking the concrete resounded all around the warehouse.

Alfredo chuckled.

"_He__'__s __never __looked __hotter_," he said to Brian but Brian just felt sick.

Brian couldn't quite strain his neck around far enough to access the damage of his friend but he knew from the noise alone that Emmett had to be unconscious. There'd been nothing to break his fall … except, well his arms were tied behind his back too. Brian was under no doubt that they'd be broken.

"FUCK!" Brian screamed.

"_Ah_," Alfredo answered, staring at Emmett, "_maybe __later, __when __I __know __if __he__'__s __alive. __I__'__m __not __into __necrophilia. __Anyway_," he clapped his hands brightly, turning away from Emmett, "_where __was __I? __Ah, __yes__ … __Rikert __walked __in __and __said,__ '_what are you doing_?_'" This time he made Rikert sound faintly Russian and Brian had never felt the need to kill anyone so much in his life. How could he be doing stupid accents at a time like this?

"_And __you __answered__ '__raping __and __pillaging __a __young __guy;_," Brian seethed, "'_just __call __me __a __fucking __Viking__'_."

Alfredo laughed a little too hard. "_Viking_," he repeated like a particularly slow child. "_Ha! __I __get __it. __Brian __Kinney_," he shook his head in that way grandparents do when they're proud of you. "_You __were __always __very __dry __with __your __sense __of __humour. __Even __now__ … __in __my __fucking __warehouse, __with __your __friend __unconscious, __you__'__re __telling __jokes_." He seemed to be acquiring praise for his imaginary crowd again. Everything was a huge performance with him. "_But __see_," he said, his voice low. It had lost its jovial quality now and Brian knew they were getting close to truth about why Alfredo had done all of this. "_I __know __you __better, __Brian. __And __I __know __that, __you __tell __these __funny __jokes __when __you__'__re __scared. __Because, __it__'__s __not __that __I __killed __Jason __that __worries __you __and __it__'__s __not __that __I __killed __Rikert __or __even __Stockwell. __No,_" he sat down again and stared right into Brian's eyes, "_because __you __know __me __better __too. __You __know __that __I __have __effective __ways __of __disposing __of __the __boys __I__'__m __finished __with. __So __what __concerns __you, __is __why __I __killed __an __eighteen __year __old __guy __called __Jason __and __left __him __in __a __dumpster __on __your __favourite __street __behind __your __favourite __diner_."

Brian didn't flinch, he didn't even blink. He just held Alfredo's gaze and allowed the man to continue.

"_Now_," Alfredo got back to his feet. Performance time again. "_A __foolish __person; __he __would __think __that __I __did __it __and __then __fed __Stockwell __information __so __that __you __would __be __prime __and __only __suspect, __so __that __your __life __would __be __a __living __hell __until __you __were __arrested_." He was acting as though he was working this out as he went along, swinging his arms around dramatically, like Poirot at the end of a long and complicated day. "_But __we __both __know __that __I __then __set __up __Rikert __so, __the __question __remains_." He crouched down to Brian's eye line, smirked widely and whispered, "_why_?"

"_Leave __him __out __of __this_," Brian said immediately.

And Alfredo beamed the biggest smile Brian had ever seen. He was so fucking happy, like this was the best moment of his sad, pathetic life.

"_That __comment __alone, __makes __me __think, __you__'__ve __finally __worked __it __out_," he chuckled, beginning to circle Brian, being careful to make a lot of fuss about stepping over Emmett. "_You __see __Brian, __a __long __time __ago, __in __a __land __far__ … __far__ … __far __away, __you __orchestrated __a __gang __to __steal __the __man __I __love __right __out __from __underneath __me_." Alfredo was behind him now. He pressed his lips right at Brian's ear and Brian quickly calculated effectiveness verses consequences of swinging his head in the direction of the voice. He could only see it ending in death for him, so he resisted the urge.

"_And __then, __Brian __Kinney, __you __ran. __You __ran __away __from __all __my __hospitality __because __you__'__re __a __fucking __traitor __and __then __you __hid __because __you__'__re __a __fucking __coward. __But __I __vowed, __the __day __you __and __Theodore __and __Mikey __and __Marv __kidnapped __Ignacio __from __me, __that __you __would __pay, __that __you __would __suffer __the __same __way __I __have_."

"_What __have __you __done __with __him_?" Brian couldn't stop the panic in his voice but Alfredo was in no mood to answer questions.

"_Didn__'__t __you __think __it __was __a __little __weird, __Justin __getting __accepted __to __PIFA __when __nobody __applied_?"

Brian felt sick. How long had he been playing into Alfredo's plans? "_I __thought __he __applied_," he said stupidly.

"_And __he __thought __you __applied,_" he sang. "_Someone __thought __Jennifer __applied__…__. __You __really __don__'__t __communicate __much, __do __you_?" He shook his head. This was the last thing Brian needed, couples counselling from the worlds sickest monster. "_Well_," he drawled thoughtfully, "_I __suppose __you __would __have __communicated __that __time __on __the __phone __had __Anja __not __turned __up. __Convenient __that, __wouldn__'__t __you __say_?"

"_Anja __works __for __you_," Brian realised aloud.

"_Of __course __she __fucking __works __for __me. __Everyone __works __for __me, __everyone __in __your __life __recently, __works __for __me. __Anja, __Herdo __at __the __supermarket, __he__'__s __cute __right? __Works __for __me. __Manon __from __the __airport, __me. __And __Ethan, __he __definitely __works __for __me __and __he__'__s __been __doing __a __fine __job_."

"_Who __the __fuck __is __Ethan_?"

"_He__'__s, __er , __how __can __I __put __this __delicately? __He__'__s __been __helping __Justin __er__ … __get __over __you_."

The words sliced Brian's heart as easily as though it was made of jelly. All those years of carefully building walls of protection had proved completely futile because right now, right when it counted, the walls had done nothing. Alfredo had hopped over them as though they were no more difficult to breach than a stile and destroyed everything within but at least the walls allowed Brian to contain the hurt and the anger within the walls so he just gritted his teeth and said,

"_The __kid's __young__ … __he __has __needs_."

"_Oh__ … __couldn__'__t __agree __more_," Alfredo continued jovially. "_He __has __needs. __You __have __needs__ … __a __lot __of __them, __if __the __rumours __are __true. __We __all __have __needs_." He laughed suddenly. "_Needs__ … __funny __word_." Then seriously, "I _have __needs __Brian __and __I __don__'__t __really __get __those __needs __fulfilled __when __a __guy __consents __to __what__'__s __happening. __You __see, __for __me, __the __thrill __is __when __they __beg__ … __and __they __plead __and __half __of __them, __the __best __half, __they __start __praying __though __if __you__'__d __asked __them __ten __minutes __earlier __they__'__d __say __they __didn__'__t __believe __in __a __God. __So __do __you __know __what __that __tells __me? __I __am __God. __Because __they__'__re __not __praying __to __some __deity, __they__'__re __praying __to __me __because __they __know__ … __I__'__m __the __only __one __who __can __stop __it __and __I __do. __I __stop __the __pain, __I __put __my __hands __on __their __necks __and __I __put __them to __sleep __forever,_" he said wistfully. "_And __you __can __feel __it, __Brian. __You __can __feel __life __passing __out __of __them __and __through __you __and __it__'__s __a __glorious __addiction._"

"_Where__'__s __Justin_?" Brian asked coldly.

"_Ethan __has __done __his __job __beautifully __and __he__'__s __left __Justin __in __a __bedroom __waiting __for __me_." Suddenly a projection appeared on the wall ahead of them. A dodgy black and white image of what was unmistakably Justin, lying immobile on a bed.

"_What __have __you __done __to __him_?" He demanded but Alfredo spoke over him.

"W_hat __do __you __think __Brian? __Let__'__s __take __a __bet, __make __this __day __even __more __fun__ … __I __know, __I __know, __I __didn__'__t __think __it __was __possible __either. __Tell __you __what, __I__'__ll __let __you __go __first__ … __is __Justin __going __to __pray __or __is __he __going __to __ruin __my __entire __fucking __day __and __be __silent_?"

"_Please __don__'__t __do __this_," Brian begged suddenly. He hadn't been expecting to sound so weak.

"_Oh __that __was __hot_," Alfredo grinned. "_Pathetic, __pointless __begging; __you __really __know __how __to __turn __me __on_."

"_So __take __me __instead_," Brian pleaded. "_I__'__ll __beg __and __pray __all __you __fucking __want__ … __just __don__'__t __hurt __him_."

"_Umm, __it__'__s __a __tempting __offer __but, __you__'__re __just __a __little __old __for __me_."

And with that he began walking towards the door, his shoes clicking with every step.

"_ALFREDO! __ALFREDO! __STOP! __STOP!__"_

Alfredo did stop. He turned around and smirked at the desperate man.

"_Tell __me __Brian_," he seethed. "_How __much __does __it __hurt? __Do __you __wanna __shoot __yourself? __Do __you __wanna __throw __yourself __off __something?__Maybe __after __I__'__m __done __with __him, __you__'__ll __wanna __go __in __the __room __yourself __and __you __can __burn __together __and __it__'__ll __be __so __fucking __romantic; __like __Hitler __and __Eva __Braun. __Oh __no __they __were __married. __Hey, __maybe __I __could __get __you __two __hitched __before __the __cremation. __That__'__d __be __good __right, __nice __little __ceremony. __Oh __wait, __is __that __legal __here? __Can __you __marry __a __corpse_?"

"MOTHER FUCKER!"

"_Oh_," Alberto feigned disgust. "_Oh __dear__ … __what __rumours __have __you __been __hearing?__I __never __fucked __my __mother_." And menacingly, "_I __killed __her_." Then happily, "I _fucked __my __daddy __though. __Well, __he __fucked __me __... __when __I __was __seven. __Most __people __would __probably __say __that__'__s __where __all __this __shit __came __from_."

It was right then that Emmett starting making a noise.

"_Oh_," Alfredo grinned. "_He__'__s __awake_." He walked over to the chair and righted it. Emmett was hissing, every movement was a world of excruciating pain. "_Oh, __you__'__re __a __mess_," he said with fake concern. "_I __bet __being __burnt __alive __will __be __a __sweet __relief __for __you_."

"_He __hasn__'__t __done __anything __to __you_."

"_Yeah, __but __he__'__s __your __friend__ … __so __he __should __die __by __association. __Besides, __I__'__ve __found __him __really __annoying.__" _

"_That__'__s __not __a __reason __to __kill __someone,_" Brian screamed, his neck was straining. He could feel his face burning with anger. Alfredo was right, Emmett was a mess. It was almost a shame the fucker hadn't died. He didn't need to be in anymore pain. Death would have been a kindness before the fiery death end Alfredo had planned but the Mexican wasn't known for his kindness, which was summed up when he said;

"_No. __You__'__ve __got __me __completely __wrong __Brian. __I __don__'__t __kill __people __because __they__'__re __annoying. __I __kill __people __because __I __enjoy __it_."

And just like that, Brian knew there was no way of stopping this man. There was nothing to appeal to, there was no moral or sense. He was just a monster.

"_Anyway_," Alfredo continued brightly, addressing the two of them, "_how __rude __of __me, __I__'__m __keeping __my __dinner __date __waiting __don__'__t __forget __to __keep __an __eye __on __the __screen, __both __of __you. __Home __cinema, __excellent._"

"Speak English you fucker," Brian growled, "he doesn't understand."

"Oh shiiiiit," Alfredo drawled, switching languages so that a drowsy, pain-ridden Emmett could understand. "But we said so much," he whined like a spoilt child. "Okay I'll do a quick recap but Brian you're gonna have to fill in the gaps. I have places to be, you know." He used his head to gesture to the screen. "People to fuck. So," he addressed Emmett, speaking slowly. "Erm." He pointed to himself. "Little crazy." He pointed to Brian, "boyfriend kidnapping fuckhead." He pointed to himself again, "about to return the favour." And then he pointed to screen, "raping and pillaging … or," he beamed at Brian, "Viking." He turned back to Emmett explaining, "that was a funny little joke Brian did earlier. You really should learn to speak Spanish, it was a very interesting dialogue. There was even a little childhood reminiscing. When this gets made into a fucking movie, it's going to be brilliant … seriously."

But Brian wasn't listening to Alfredo's ramblings of insanity because he just saw Justin sit up on the bed, holding his head. He seemed completely out of it, totally unaware of what was going on and then he began to call.

"Ethan. Ethan, did I fall asleep on the walk?" He questioned, shaking his head a little. He was clearly trying to piece together what had happened.

"_Fall __asleep __on __the __walk_," Alfredo laughed hard. He'd gone back to his mother tongue. "_What __a __retard_!" And then proudly he said, "_Ethan __used __succinylcholine. __Asleep __in __seconds, __it__'__s __a __beautiful __thing. Almost as beautiful as Cataplexy.__"_

"Fuck you!" Brian screamed.

"_You __know_," Alfredo hissed, "_on __any __normal __day, __a __comment __like __that __would __get __you __killed __on __the __spot. __But __I __don__'__t __want __you __to __miss __a __second __of __this_."

And with that, he marched from the room and no amount of begging and pleading in any language could stop him. Brian felt sick. He could actually feel the bile rising up inside him and he watched the screen. Justin was walking around, picking some things up, and studying them. He wasn't scared. He hadn't even tried to leave, though Brian was sure he wouldn't be able to. He was completely oblivious to his fate and Brian couldn't keep the bile inside any longer.

When his guts had stopped trying to escape his body, he turned back to Emmett, who was still wincing with every breath as he asked weakly,

"Brian, is that…?"

"Yeah," Brian answered, the tears were streaming down his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Emmett, I'm sorry. YOU HEAR ME," he screamed as loud as his lungs would allow, "I'M FUCKING SORRY!"

* * *

><p><strong>Erm... Yeah! Sorry about that. Reviews would be lovely. I home the italics made sense!<strong>  
><strong>Hopefully see you all at the next chapter! :D<strong>  
><strong>I.B...xx<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**It's been ages ... but for any of you still interested (or just still remember this story; here's the next chapter) - There's one left after this ... hopefully that one won't be such a long wait!**

* * *

><p>It had been ten minutes. Justin was just making himself comfortable on the bed, fluffing up the pillows and relaxing and no matter how much Brian willed it, Justin wasn't in any rush to leave. Emmett was muttering and mumbling drowsily at his side as he slid in and out of consciousness. And there were guards at every exit, even if he managed to get to his feet, which he couldn't, there was no way of escape. They were finished.<p>

This would be the time, in a Hollywood movie, that it would be revealed that Brian had been wearing a laser ring all the time and could easily burn through the ropes, binding his arms. He could safely disarm the closest guard, who was conveniently the smallest, kill the others in seconds and then go to save Justin but this wasn't a film. Maybe, in a different film, the doors would open and in would have barged Debbie and Ted coming to save the day. The doors did open and Debbie and Ted did arrive but they were handcuffed and were thrown unceremoniously to the floor. The only person the guards were careful with was Ignacio, who was laid carefully on the floor and Brian realised that on some strange level, Alfredo must have felt something for the man he'd spent years torturing. Ignacio wasn't handcuffed either just self-paralysed and Brian wondered how many times this had to happen before Ignacio would just never recover.

The new additions to the group were gagged as well as cuffed. Brian could see the fear in their eyes when they spotted a lifeless Emmett.

"He's alive," Brian reassured them. "Just."

"Silence," the nearest guard warned him and Brian's eyes widened because he knew that voice. It was … no, surely not. He looked at the guard more closely and, between the hat and the scarf pulled up over his nose, he could see those brown eyes he hadn't seen in such a long time. They winked. Michael.

Brian shook his head in disbelief and shouted again.

"If Alfredo wanted me silenced, he'd have gagged me himself."

"I said silence," Michael repeated, walking over to Brian and standing behind him. He wrapped his arm around Brian's throat and Brian pretended to choke. All the while, Michael was using a knife to slice through the ropes around his old friend's wrists and slide a handgun into position.

"Not too much," a different guard yelled, "Alfredo will kill us if he finds out Kinney missed his performance."

"Oh shut the fuck up," Michael groaned, pulling his machine gun and shooting the guy dead. Brian stood up from his seat and shot the other three guards and Herdo in the legs. He'd let the police deal with that later. He wasn't a murderer … yet.

Then he turned to Michael and pointed the gun his face,

"one reason, why I shouldn't?"

"I just saved your life," Michael cried.

"You could have killed Justin."

"But I didn't."

"Not because you didn't try," Brian growled.

"Fine," Michael scowled back. "But how about we save everyone else before you shoot me in the face."

Brian lowered his gun. Michael was right. There would be plenty of time to turn Michael into Swiss cheese after everybody was alive and safe. Michael nodded and ran over to help Debbie and Ted.

"Horvath and the police are outside," he said as he removed ropes from Ted's wrists and ankles.

"I should have known you'd have brought them along … again," he replied bitterly but that didn't stop him realising that if Alfredo had left then that meant the police had caught him. It was over. It was fucking over!

"I needed them," Michael replied frustrated. He'd just saved Brian's life and all he was getting was grief. "I had to track Emmett's cell and I knew Horvath could do it."

"I know you didn't think of that," Brian laughed cruelly, going over to Emmett and carefully removing the ropes from his wrists and, with Ted's help lifting him carefully onto the floor.

"Well, it was Hunter's idea," he admitted sheepishly, helping his mother to his feet.

"My grandson's a genius," Debbie grinned. "You too, baby," she added, kissing Michael on the cheek before rushing to Emmett's side too.

"Thanks Ma," he scorned bitterly but he knew Emmett was more important at the moment.

"He has to get to hospital," she said gravely. "I can fix up the odd bullet wound and stitch up a cut but broken arms … concussion. This needs professionals."

"She's right," Ted nodded. "Every second he spends here is just another second wasted."

"Okay," Brian nodded. "We'll carry him outside and then we'll go and find Justin."

It was decided after much fussing that Brian should carry Emmett himself. There was no other way, so Brian lifted him and staggered carefully towards the exit.

"Jesus Christ, Honeycutt," he muttered as he stepped outside. "How much do you fucking weigh?"

Brian had almost expected him to snap back angrily with some bitchy comment but Emmett stayed limp, his eyes barely open, murmuring softly.

"Come on, Honeycutt," Brian hissed, suddenly gaining the strength of a thousand men, "you're not a fucking quitter."

The police cars were everywhere, all shining their lights at the walking wounded as they exited through the door.

"Lower your guns," Horvath's voice boomed loudly, and the sound of guns disarming came from all around them. Brian just blinked, he couldn't see anything past the blinding lights but he knew that somewhere there had to be a medical professional.

"Help me then!" He yelled, and in seconds four paramedics were helping to lower Emmett to a stretcher to carry him quickly to an ambulance. Ted went with him, whilst Horvath came over to congratulate Michael on a job well done.

"Before you get too fucking sentimental," Brian scowled, "there's four men in there you should probably arrest and we still need to find Justin. Can you ask Alfredo where he is please?"

"Umm, who?" Horvath asked and no one could fake that amount of confusion.

"The guy you arrested," Brian said hopefully but Horvath just continued to look dazed and stupid. "You didn't arrest anyone, did you?"

"No one's left except you," Horvath said honestly.

And Brian realised that even now, with Michael rescuing them, with all his guards immobilised, Alfredo was still winning. He was still on top, still one step ahead. Brian swore sharply under his breath and, with gun in hand, went storming back into the warehouse, screaming, "ALFREDO!" Michael tried to follow him but the door slammed shut in his face.

Brian heard the bang and turned slowly.

"Hola," Alfredo beamed, his hand on the door from where he'd slammed it shut. He could hear Michael, Debbie and Horvath hammering on the door but it was useless.  
>"<em>Fire<em>_door_," Alfredo smirked. "_No __entrance __from __the __outside. __I__'__d __say __we __have __three __minutes __until __they __come __through __the __other __door_." He gestured to a door behind Brian, but the other man wasn't stupid enough to turn around.

He'd had enough of Alfredo's games. He cocked his gun and pointed it steadily at the man ahead of him.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't blow a hole through your face," he said coldly. He didn't feel emotional. He almost felt like he was watching this from somewhere else, as though it wasn't really him but he wasn't inclined to stop this part of him. The world could only be better if Alfredo wasn't in it.

"_This_," Alfredo said calmly, cocking his own gun and holding his arm straight out to his right. Brian followed the direction slowly, fearful of what he was going to see.

He gulped. His fingers fell limp and his gun dropped to the floor. It went off as it hit the floor but the bullet sped off in a safe enough direction but Brian thought that even if that bullet has imbedded itself right in his foot, he still wouldn't have noticed because, the target for Alfredo's would-be shot was Justin. He was gagged, and bound to a chair. Tears were streaming down his red and white blotchy face and he was shaking like terrified rabbit. He was muttering something around the handkerchief that was taped into his mouth, gagging as the attempts at speaking drained his saliva and forced the handkerchief to tickle the back of his throat.

"_Admit __it_," Alfredo smirked, "_he__'__s __never __been __so __sexy_."

"You're an animal," Brian seethed. His own vision was blurring with tears. They'd been so close to winning. He'd been outside. He'd felt it, they were winning and now…. Now, he was losing all over again.

"Animal? Monster?" Alfredo sang in a fed-up tone. "_Make __up __your __mind. __Which __is __it_?"

"Both!"

"A…" Alfredo seemed to think for a moment, "monstimal?" He concluded eventually and then he chuckled, "_I __like __it_."

Brian wondered for a second if he could run to Alfredo and knock the gun out of his hand before he'd have chance to cock it and pull the trigger but he decided he probably didn't. So he stood routed to the spot as Alfredo said,

"_right, __Kinney, __let__'__s __get __down __to __business. __We __both __know __that __I__'__m __stuck __here, __so __I __need __you __to __find __me __a__way __out_."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"_Go __and __talk __to __your __old __friend, __Horvath_," he said sternly. "_Convince __him __to __let __me __leave __with __Ignacio __or __I __will __blow __Justine__'__s __pretty __blonde __skull __apart, __got __it_?"

Brian just nodded. He couldn't do anything else now. He was sick to his stomach. He was pretty sure if he opened his mouth he'd just vomit over everything.

He turned around and began to walk towards the other exit. He expected Horvath to come jogging through the door any second and it would be his job to tell them to let Alfredo go. Was he really going to allow Alfredo to walk free just to save Justin? He knew if it was Brian himself that Alfredo was threatening, he'd have happily accepted death if it meant that Alfredo would face the lethal injection but not Justin. He'd give the whole world for Justin. Yeah, Alfredo was right, he was fucking weak. Just at that moment, Horvath came through the door. Brian began to deliver his message and then it happened. A single gunshot echoed around the warehouse and then another and another and another.

JUSTIN! No. Shit! No. The bastard had shot him. Brian turned around. The first thing he saw was Justin, still crying, still shaking, still sittingon the chair, still alive and a few metres to the right of him, Alfredo was on the floor, bullet holes through his chest. He was coughing harshly, splatters of blood flying out of his mouth and a few feet away from him, shaking and sobbing was Ignacio. The man managed to hold it together just long enough to say "adios, bastardo" and then he dropped the gun. As soon as he lost contact with the gun, he seemed to lose all his strength and he fell to the floor, muttering something over and over again in Spanish.

Brian raced to his broken friend and sat down next to him, screaming at Horvath to untie Justin.

"What's he saying?" Horvath demanded, as he went over to help the blonde.

"He's praying," Brian answered, as Ignacio began to sob into his shirt.

"Lo siento," he whispered. "Lo siento tanto, tanto…."

"Shh," Brian soothed him. "It's okay. You're okay." Then he looked up at Horvath, who was slowly peeling the tape from Justin's face. "I did it," Brian said firmly, indicating Alfredo, who was still coughing, the last moments of life seeping from him.

"NO!" Justin cried, as his gag was finally removed but Brian was ignoring him. He was staring straight at Horvath, who just said very deliberately;

"I don't know what you're talking about. By the time I got here, it was very clear that Alfredo had shot himself."

Suddenly, Alfredo's coughing got louder and he seemed to be laughing.

"Lo sabia," he choked violently, "todos los policies son unos corruptos."

"What's he saying?" Horvath asked.

"He's saying he knew all the police were dirty."

"Speak English," Horvath commanded but Alfredo coughed something back, which Brian translated as 'fuck you'.

Alfredo coughed a second sentence out, which Brian was easily able to translate as 'You're not even going to get me medical help?' but aloud he said, "you know, I don't think I got that." There was no way he was going to allow Alfredo to compromise Horvath. There was no other option than to let Alfredo die here in this warehouse, like so many of his other victims.

"Bastardo," Alfredo tried to shout but it just came out as a spluttered coughing fit. He was really rasping for breath now and Brian wondered if it would be kinder to just put a bullet through the man's head but the question was, did he really deserve this kindness?

"_You __tell __them __this, __Brian,_" Alfredo hissed in Spanish. "_You __t-tell __everyone __this. __You __make __sure __the __whole __world __knows __what __I-I __did. __I __don__'__t __want __some __fucking __asshole __taking __my __glory_." He hissed loudly. He was pale now. His eyes were struggling to stay open. "_You __s-send __letters __to __all __the __families __of __my __victims, __you __tell __them __that __it __was __m-me. __You __tell __them __that __Alfredo __Jimenez __caused __all __their __grief __and __you __tell __them __he __took __and __g-gave __life __like __a __God_." The last word was barely more than a whisper but everything around them was silent and as much as Brian wished he didn't have to listen, he couldn't miss a word.

"What's he saying?" Justin asked.

And Brian looked down into the dying man's eyes and smirked because he suddenly realised, right at the end that he could win.

"He says he's sorry," Brian said solemnly and he saw in Alfredo's eyes fury and anger as his entire life was destroyed. "He says he wants us to send letters to the families of his victims and apologise. He just wants forgiveness but more than that," he crouched down by Alfredo, his fingers where the man's pulse was, he had to make sure he heard this. Life was weak but it was there. "More than that," he repeated, "he says, he's ashamed. Dice que se avergüenza," he repeated in Alfredo's ear.

And with those final words floating in his head, Alfredo took his last breath and finally fell still.

::

It felt like the end, looking down at Alfredo's dead body but really there was so much more left to do.

Horvath described it as 'paperwork' as he called for the uniformed cops to arrest all the wounded guards as he himself helped Ignacio up and took him from the warehouse. The Mexican man was struggling to stand, his muscles were going loose on him but he was fighting it, better than Brian had ever known him to fight it before. Maybe Alfredo's death had released Ignacio in ways they couldn't even understand but Brian was barely paying a passing interest to any of that, because he finally had Justin his arms again and he was completely overwhelmed by how he felt and how he smelt and how he clung on as though he was the most important thing in the world.

"I've missed you so much," Justin sobbed.

"Me too. I'm sorry that I got you involved in all this."

"It wasn't your fault," Justin said shakily, balling his hands up in Brian's shirt. "I'm sorry I ever even considered somebody else and I'm sorry for ever making you believe that I wasn't perfectly happy with you. I'd follow you anywhere Brian and I…."

"Shhh," Brian chuckled, using his thumb to lift Justin's chin and his fingers to dry the tears that were running down his face and then he just smiled, a warm, loving smile.

"What?" Justin whispered.

"Just…." Brian kissed him lightly. "I love you."

"And te amo," Justin grinned. And then, suddenly very aware they were standing in a fucking warehouse surrounded by death and destruction he suggested they get out of there.

::

It was chaos outside the warehouse. The reporters were just arriving, as they always do when things are getting sorted and the police were having just as hard time keeping them back as they were organising something to clean up the mess.

Horvath was in the middle of it all, giving a statement to the press and trying to make calls into headquarters. When he spotted Brian and Justin, he rushed straight over.

"You need to get to the hospital," he said sternly. "It's Emmett, he's not good."

"No," Justin cried. "Not after everything."

Brian slid his arm around the younger man and asked if they could have a lift.

"Go in the ambulance," Horvath pointed to the nearby vehicle, "they're taking Ignacio in. They'll take you too."

Brian and Justin piled into the back of the ambulance and the paramedic who was talking to Ignacio shut the door behind them. It was obvious from the looks the woman in the luminous yellow jacket was giving them that she was not thrilled to be helping out known criminals but she was professional to ask if they needed to be checked over.

"Do him," Brian said, nodding to Justin. "He's been drugged and gagged and fuck knows what else." The paramedic shone a torch in to Justin's eyes, she started do ask him questions; things he could remember, things he couldn't.

Brian wasn't paying any attention. He was just calculating Emmett's chances of survival.

The pain X the broken limbs X the blood loss X a hard bang on the head = ….

Well, it would depend on the toughness of the person. It was going to depend on how willing Emmett was to fight for his life and despite his frankly pathetic exterior; Emmett Honeycutt was not a quitter.

"Come on Honeycutt," he muttered under his breath. "Don't give up yet."


	10. Chapter 10

Brian sat on the wall outside the crematorium. He couldn't go in. He felt too guilty, too responsible. He'd caused his friends death and he refused to go in a room and sing songs and set fire to the fucking body. It was all too fucking ironic and tragic. It was sunny when it should have rained, the birds were singing when they should be crying. People were just living their lives when his life was over. Brian kicked a bit of the stone slab that had broken away from the rest of the path. It made a slight scrapping noise as it skimmed across the floor and landed safely in the pretty little garden of fucking paradise that the crematorium had planted next door. The perfect place to be scattered, that's what they said. Well no friend of Brian's was going to be laid to rest in a garden of paradise along with every other fucker in Pittsburgh.

"Brian." Justin's voice broke through his internal thoughts of doom but it wasn't enough to make him turn around.

"Brian." Justin was closer this time and the word was accompanied by a tentative touch to the shoulder. "The ceremonies about to start. You should come inside, say goodbye."

"Why?" Brian asked numbly. "Nothing I can say will make him realise how sorry I am for getting him killed."

"You didn't get him killed, Brian," Justin said firmly. "He knew the risks he was taking. And you gave him ten years with Ignacio that he never would have had without you. I'm sure Marv wouldn't have given that up for anything." He sighed and sat next to the older man. "We haven't even been together two years yet and I don't regret anything that's brought us that. Not my dad, not my mom … not even the fact that, after this funeral, we have to leave the country forever … again. I'm sure if Marv was here, he'd thank you. Not hate you."

Brian felt Justin take his hand gently in both of his and squeeze it tightly.

"Come on," he whispered. "Come inside."

Brian sat silently. He didn't speak. He didn't move. So Justin just sighed, got to his feet and with a bit of a smirk, he said:

"I didn't wanna have to bring threats into this but Emmett said if you don't get your ass inside, he's going to run over your feet with his wheels."

Brian chuckled a little. He couldn't help was pretty sure that, "no one's ever enjoyed a wheelchair as much as Honeycutt."

"I think he thinks it makes him some kind of transformer-like robot."

Brian smiled again and this time he didn't stop Justin from taking his hand and pulling him gently inside the building.

::

The service had been quite nice in the end. Ignacio had made a speech, so had Ted and they'd all sung a hymn that Ignacio had picked out and even though, Brian thought singing and hymns were bullshit, he still sang and held Ignacio's hand giving him all the strength he had left. On his other side, he was taking his strength from Justin and Brian had no idea where Justin was getting it from. He wished he knew. He wished he could have Justin's phenomenal strength of mind at his disposal and when Justin smiled encouragingly at him, Brian knew, he didn't need Justin's strength as long as he had Justin.

The plan was that everyone should go to Debbie's afterwards but Ignacio said he had something to do first so Brian drove with him. Ignacio didn't even have to tell him where to go, he just drove to the street he knew so well until he was parked outside the old Mexican restaurant. It was all boarded up and the painted sign above the door was peeling off.

"I still own it," Ignacio said, looking up at the building. He had Marv's ashes clutched to his chest. "No one would buy it because it belonged to people who had protected you."

"What are you going to do with those?" Brian asked, indicating the ashes."I think I will put them in a nice urn and then put them somewhere." He was still staring up at the restaurant.

"In there?" Brian asked.

Ignacio just nodded. "It is still the same inside," he explained, opening the car door. "Come."

Brian got out too and watched as Ignacio found a loose board. He pulled it off the window and they peered in. Ignacio was right. It was exactly as it had been left, if a little dustier and brown from the erosion of time.

"I want a complete renovación," Ignacio said quietly. And as an after thought, "he left me a lot of money."

"Marv?" Brian asked, though he could imagine Marv would have the capacity to leave Ignacio much money. They shared everything as far as he knew. Ignacio shook his head and Brian realised it was, "Alfredo."

Ignacio just nodded and replaced the bored as best he could. "I tried to not accept it but Horvath told me I deserved it. I have taken some," he admitted. "Enough to do up the restaurant. The rest I have given to a charity that support people who have lost a family member to murder." He smiled a little. "It was my final 'fuck you' to him. I know he would have hated his money to be used like this."

"Couldn't agree more," Brian smiled.

Then Ignacio turned to him and he looked very serious, more serious than Brian had ever seen him.

"I showed you this," he said slowly, "so that you can see I have my plan."

Brian frowned a little.

"I need you to know, I am fine. You do not need to stay around to see that I am okay. This is me, this is my restaurant. And you are with Justin, in your big, beautiful house in Madagascar. You go and live that happily ever after that you deserve and I will search for the next chapter of my story."

::

Debbie's house didn't really feel like a funeral. It felt like a celebration. There was food and drinks and a buzz about the place that felt positive and excitable and by the time Brian and Ignacio arrived, the music was playing and Emmett, in his huge fucking electric wheelchair, was trying to get Ted to dance with him.

"No," Ted was saying angrily. "What pain killers have they got you on? I think they've made you insane."

He had a point. Emmett did look a bit insane. His wheelchair was humongous and was powered by a little joystick on the right arm of the chair, as that was the arm he was able to move his fingers. The doctors had said his arms would set relatively well, though his left arm was mainly pins and titanium. It had amused him no end when Ted had bought a magnet and just stuck it to Emmett's arm. And despite the doctor's warnings, Emmett still used it as his party trick, just like spinning fast in a circle on his chair.

"Oh, he would hate that," Brian heard Ignacio chuckle and he followed the smaller man's gaze to the television. The news was on and a female reporter was stood outside the warehouse.

"Translators on the scene say that all Alfredo Jimenez wanted on his death bed was a chance to tell the world how sorry he was. After the break, we talk to some of the families of Alfredo's victims."

"How many names did you give the police?" Brian asked as the TV began playing clips of the emotionally charged interviews with victims' loved ones.

"Eighteen," Ignacio replied quietly. "You know I used to write them down in my diario, when I was at Alfredo's house. He used to tell me all about every single boy but sometimes I forgot the names before I wrote them. I gave the book to the police. I think that part of my life is at its end."

Brian nodded slightly and was struggling to think of something comforting to say when the conversation was interrupted by Michael.

"Can I talk to you?" He asked quietly.

"You gonna try and bash my head in?"

"Are you ever forgive me for that?"

"No," Brian replied immediately. It was a stupid fucking question with a simple fucking answer and he could only imagine any conversation with Michael would go in a similar way but he still went outside with him.

There was just silence in the garden. There was no party out here, no celebrations or commiserations, no grumpy Ted, no excitable Emmett, no Justin.

"Just us two," Michael summed up. "Just like it used to be before … we grew up."

"It'll never be just like it used to be," Brian replied coldly.

"I know," Michael whispered and Brian couldn't help notice how choked he sounded. "I wish…." He stopped and picked at a leaf on one of the trees, pulling at it mindlessly. There were so many things he wished and then honestly he said, "I wish I'd never met you."

Brian's eyebrows shot up in surprise, whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't that and when he looked at the other man, he saw there were tears falling slowly down his cheeks.

"I loved you so much," he whispered. "I'd have done anything for you and you…." He sobbed a little. "You used that against me … for years. You let me tag along, you let me believe that maybe one day you and I could be together but it was never going to happen. You dragged me into that world even though you knew I couldn't cope in it and then, when push finally came to shove, when it came to the point that we were gonna be caught or dead." Michael stopped, dropping the leaf onto the floor and pulling at another one. "You abandoned me."

Brian couldn't look at the other man. He knew all this already. He'd known it from the moment he'd chosen Justin in that garage back at the house in West Virginia but to hear it aloud made him really realise how he'd destroyed Michael.

"I snapped," Michael whispered, his voice sounded like it was coming through a bubble of tears. "I wasn't in my right mind when I…. I know I shouldn't have said anything. I know you wouldn't have told them where I was but I got suckered in, Brian. Stockwell promised me a new life away from you and everything that I hated." He was crying properly. "It's not an excuse," he wept. "It'll never be an excuse. I'm so sorry."

Brian walked over to him and put his arms around his old friend and they clung on to each other and for a second, they were fourteen again and they were best friends with the whole world ahead of them. And then they pulled apart and they were strangers once again, going in two very different directions.

"Be happy with Ben," Brian whispered, kissing Michael on the forehead before joining the party again.

Once inside, he sent Ben outside.

"Your future husband needs you," was all he said and then he went to find Justin because all he wanted to do was get on a seventeen hour flight back to their home in Madagascar. When he found him, he was in the middle of dancing with Emmett and Brian just stood watching. Let the kid have his fun, he deserved it.

Brian was aware of a presence at his shoulder but he didn't have to turn around to know it was Ted.

"So, Theodore, are you coming back to Madagascar with us?"

"No," he answered quietly. It was the response Brian was expecting ever since Horvath told them they could stay in the country if they wanted. Then with a smirk, Ted added, "Emmett and I have got ourselves in on a little bankjob."

"Emmett?" Brian scorned, turning to look at his friend as though he'd suddenly spouted an extra eye. "He's fucking crippled."

"Exactly," Ted grinned. "No one's gonna suspect him."

"Nice," Brian nodded and it was.

"So … what do you say? One more spin around the block … one more job for old times sake."

Brian wouldn't lie. The temptation was there but when he looked at Justin the temptation just melted away. He promised never to put his lover in danger again and he would stand by it for the rest of his life.

"No, thanks."

"I thought you'd say that," Ted smiled. "But I guess you've been searching all your life for this happy ending right? Why throw it away now?"

"Is this gonna be one of your moments of psycho-analytical bullshit?" Brian asked, flicking Ted in forehead for no real reason other than he wanted to.

"You had a terrible childhood."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"You claimed you were never loved," Ted continued. "And ever since you've been fucking every gay man you see, trying to find love in one of them and now," he patted Brian on the back, "you've found him. And this is how your Hollywood movie ends. On an island in Madagascar."

"Oh god that's so sentimental," Brian scorned. "I'm gonna puke."

"Whereas me and Emmett," Ted laughed, "our Hollywood ending is destined to be us driving off a cliff."

"Did you just compare yourselves to Thelma and Louise?" Brian asked incredulously. Ted just shrugged and Brian rolled his eyes but he still slung an arm around Ted's shoulders and said: "If it's what you and Miss Muffet want … go for it." And barely taking a breath, he shouted, "Sunshine. We've gotta go. There's an island on the other side of the world with our names on it."

Of course Justin insisted on hugging every mother fucker in the place, especially Emmett. Brian was getting completely sick of it so when he left the room he just called,

"Later twots." Which Justin followed up with, "be sure to come an visit."

"Don't tell them that," Brian groaned as he unlocked the car. "They might take you up on the offer."

"That's what I'm hoping." And then he added, "how are things with Michael?"

"Finished," Brian said simply because that was true. It had been a long and complicated story between them and now it was over. They were both free to live how they wanted and love how they wanted. Ted and Emmett could keep chasing their blaze of glory and Ignacio could open his restaurant.

Everything felt finished or perhaps it felt like the beginning of a happy epilogue … so long as no more monsters from Brian's past decided to rear their ugly heads.


End file.
